


The Fox and the Hounds

by Ytalis6



Series: The Fox and The Hounds [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Characters are aged up to indeterminate mid-twenties, Hints of Florist!AU, Latino Lance (Voltron), M/M, thief!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytalis6/pseuds/Ytalis6
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance McClain, better known as Blue, is the greatest thief in the history of the world; no treasure is safe from him.  Stealing the hearts of two beautiful detectives, though?  That gets a little hairier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Casing the Joint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, folks! Thank you for opening the story! A couple of housekeeping notes, real quick:  
> 1) I have no idea where I'm going with this. I have some vague ideas, but I got the idea of Thief!Lance in my head, and now it won't let me go  
> 2) As in the tags, the characters ARE aged up. I don't have specific ages for them as of yet, but that might change.  
> 3) Enjoy!

Keith glared at the object on his desk, completely flabbergasted and offended by its very existence, much less the card attached to it. He heard choruses of whispers erupting from the desks around his, and as he put his satchel down on the desk, next to the...thing.

“Where did this come from?” he said, his voice flat and even. It was far more calm than he felt, because even as he asked the question he knew exactly what the answer was. Still, he walked around to his seat, leaning heavily on its back as he examined the object.

A bouquet of flowers sat on his desk, fanned beautifully in their vase. The vase itself looked prohibitively expensive, with masterfully blended lines of what looked like blown glass weaving in and out of intricate woodwork. The flowers themselves were an odd arrangement, and he couldn’t discern any real pattern to them. He would have expected roses, or lilies, or some kind of normal flower like that. But no, there were things that an instructional card called rocket flowers, lythrum, lobelia, something called dittany of Crete, all centered around something called fumitory blossoms. 

“Um, we’re not sure who put that there, Mr. Kogane sir.” Keith nearly missed the quiet voice of the secretary, whose name was...Shannon? Shana? Something like that, he couldn’t quite remember. “When I got here this morning, it was already on your desk. There, um, there was a note on it, though. It’s still there in the bouquet.”

“If you’re referring to the card that describes the flowers, I already-” Keith broke off because there was another card there, hidden by the petals of the fumitories. Keith pulled it out slowly, dreading what he was sure was inside.

_To my dear Mr. Little Hound: I hope this note and the flowers find you well. I believed that your rather disappointing showing last week at the Somerset House deserved some manner of consolation prize. I hope you enjoy the gift, since the vase was actually harder to steal than the Georgiana Houghtons that I guarantee will look way better on my mantlepiece than they did in that stuffy museum. Oh! Also, in the flowers, there’s a hidden message! I’ll let you puzzle out, though~ -Much love, Blue._

Keith’s hand hovered next to the vase, desperately wanting nothing more than to just extend his arm and send the entire vase crashing to the ground, but he had no doubt that Shiro would have his head for it. Or Allura would, though she’d probably do it much more literally. He shivered at the thought, sitting heavily at his desk and regarding the hideous arrangement that had ruined his perfectly good morning. 

And what was even worse is that the note was completely right. There had been a theft at the Somerset House, and Keith had completely failed to stop it. Though as he reviewed his report before handing it in to the Chief, he realized that they hadn’t completely botched it. Yeah, Blue had escaped with not just one, but three Georgiana Houghton paintings, but he hadn’t made off with the entire exhibit like he’d threatened. It was hardly a success, though the papers in London had lauded Keith and Shiro as heroes for ‘foiling the nefarious bandit’, like they were characters in some children’s cartoon. Keith had only just been able to stomach it, but Shiro had forced them to stay for interviews.

Even now, his stomach turned at the idea. He’d always hated dealing with the press. Shiro was much better suited to that kind of thing anyway, so it made no sense that Allura always demanded that they do joint interviews. The thought reminded him that he had another one lined up for the coming weekend, and his scowl deepened at the very thought. 

He set the report to print, thinking more about the incident. Just the details, the facts, he reminded himself, trying very hard not to think about the way Blue’s voice had rung through the entire empty museum, echoing through cavernous halls and just slightly altered by the stupid lion mask he always wore. He thought of the way the thief had moved through the halls, always just out of sight, nothing more than a brief flicker of movement around a corner and through a hallway, a memory in security footage.

He tore the printed report out of the printer as it finished, ripping the end of the paper where the machine still gripped it. He stared at the paper briefly, deeming it sufficient. There weren’t any words on that part anyway, it was just blank space. It was more efficient this way. Keith stood up and stalked the thirty-four steps to Allura’s office, hearing hers and Shiro’s voices muffled through the doorway. He rapped on the glass impatiently, leaning on the frame until Shiro opened up.

Keith was still scowling as he looked up into his partner’s face, in part because Shiro was one of the only people who could decode his various scowls. He interpreted Keith’s current face as his “impatient scowl” and moved aside to let him in without argument.

Allura’s office had a stark look to it that belied her own impeccable style. A few medals and awards adorned the wall, but no actual decorations save for two shelves of books, if those could even be called decoration. Keith wasn’t sure she ever read those, so perhaps they qualified as such. The woman herself was seated behind her wide desk, drumming her fingers on the cherrywood as she watched him. 

Keith placed the report on her desk, taking a seat in one of the two plush chairs in front of her desk. Shiro sat wordlessly next to him as Allura scanned the document, a single elegant eyebrow raising as she reached the last, torn page. Keith flushed but offered no explanation and Allura asked for none.

“It’s detailed,” she offered, placing the document face-down on her desk, “But not tremendously informative. You didn’t even get a good look at the thief?” Keith looked down, letting Shiro field the question.

Shiro gave Keith a brief glare before turning to Allura. “The thief did elude us, yes. Even security footage only gave us blurry images at long distances, so his general build is...very difficult to determine. As the report states, we estimate that he’s a young man, likely in his early to mid twenties, with a generally thin build. His voice is altered by the mask he wears, and he’s proven himself very effective at evading our notice.”

Keith snorted and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “He’s an ass is what he is.” He noticed the disdain on Allura’s face and decided to elaborate. “He’s a thrill-seeker. His thefts have no common theme to them, except that they’re always the most heavily guarded. We’ve requested that museums add extra guards to less valuable pieces, and he changes targets to go for those instead!” Allura’s eyes widened by a fraction at that, and Keith mentally congratulated himself for getting a reaction out of her. 

“That’s something that we’ll be able to use in the future, then. If we can predict his movements, that makes him much easier to catch. Good find, Kogane.” Keith tried not to show his pride at the compliment too obviously, but was failing miserably if Shiro’s knowing smirk was any indication. “We’ve received some word from informants that he’s planning another heist, but hopefully this one will be closer to home. I’d hate to exhaust you two so completely.”

Keith shrugged, and Shiro offered her a patient smile. “We accepted this case, Chief. We’ll be happy to follow him wherever he goes.” He received a small but genuine smile from Allura in return.

“You should follow up with the informant. She’s asked to remain anonymous, and goes by the pseudonym ‘Pidge’. Her contact number has already been sent to your phones. She’s requested that you get in touch with her within 24 hours, so please do so. Beyond that gentlemen, the case is yours to do with as you wish.” She nodded to them, a clear dismissal before she returned to another report from a different detective. Keith glanced at the report headline, noting a reference to the Galra family. He shuddered as he left the office, glad that he had nothing to do with that.

Shiro turned to him as they left her office, nudging his shoulder gently. “So, I saw that you have an admirer,” he teased, chuckling at Keith’s groan. “Are they from Blue?”

“Yeah, and I have no clue how. The new secretary, Shannon or whatever, said that they were already there when she got in this morning.” Keith glared at the bouquet on his desk, but Shiro looked at it thoughtfully.

“Her name’s Shay, by the way. Not Shannon.” He smiled at Keith’s grimace, but there was a hard set to his eyes that warned Keith not to get the secretary’s name wrong. Keith nodded, partially just to placate him, but it seemed to work well enough. “I wonder how he got in here…” he mused, referring to the thief again. Keith stifled yet another groan.

“If he can break into heavily-guarded art museums, I don’t really think that a police station would give him that much trouble.” That earned him a snicker from Shiro, and he felt like he was a roll today. _Uh-oh_ , he thought, _Shiro’s giving me puppy dog eyes._

He certainly was, and he took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Keith, could you do me a favor?” He asked quietly, and Keith rolled his eyes.

“Lemme guess, venti black coffee?”

Shiro’s eyes brightened, and he nodded. “You’re the best partner, Keith!”

“Yeah, you just know that I owe you and you’re capitalizing on it. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“You only have three more favors to pay off! I’m sure we’ll be even someday.”

Keith gave a bark of laugh as he shrugged his jacket on, already preparing mentally for the biting chill of fall in Chicago. “Be right back, then. Call the informant while I’m gone, yeah?” With that, Keith walked out of the station, gasping as the wind immediately tore at him. Bundling up tighter, he made his down the street to the nearby coffee shop. Maybe he needed some caffeine too, and possibly a quick pit stop on the way back. He’d heard that his favorite florist was back in town...

* * *

“So they know the next destination? Uh-huh. Great, thanks. What? Yeah no, I...no, they already paid you for it! Yeah, I know that cops _usually_ don’t pay informants, but I also know that you’re squeezing bribes out of the Deputy Chief, so don’t give me that crap! Okay wait hold on, let’s not do anything rash here. We’re square, remember? In fact, if anything, you owe _me_ after that last job, I didn’t have to share. Yeah, I do know that you love Houghton, that’s why I picked that exhibit. Nuh-uh, I don’t wanna hear it, we both know you’d never rat me out. You love the game too much. Oh hey, I gotta go, they need me. No, you don’t get to know who ‘they’ are, we’ve been over this. Catch you later, kiddo.”

“Coming, Mamá!” The young man strode out of the back of the flower shop, tying an apron on quickly as he moved. He shoved the phone into his back pocket, grinning to himself at the results of the conversation. The next week should be an interesting one.

“Hóla!” he said cheerfully, greeting the customer. The shop was nicely quiet during the day, but the morning always carried a slow stream of customers; usually husbands who’d pissed off their wives, or boys hoping to impress their girlfriends. This particular man though, was one who came in frequently to buy flowers for his home. The young man thought that he lived alone perhaps, or maybe in remembrance of a departed wife. He didn’t feel it proper to pry, though.

As he rang the man up for a bouquet of stargazer lilies, _lovely flowers though they don’t last long at all,_ the doorbell jingled again. The young man looked around for his mother to attend the new customer, but she was nowhere to be found, leaving it to him. He sighed and plastered a smile on his face, put on as easily as any other mask.

“Hóla, and welcome to McClain florists! Can I...oh, Officer Kogane!”

The detective ducked into the store, breathing deep in the scent of flowers. There was also a cologne hidden under the aroma, one that he recognized. A smile crept over his face as he looked up at the young man, pleased that he’d returned. “Hey there, Lance.”

Lance brightened up in return, throwing a dazzling and genuine smile Keith’s way. “I’m kinda surprised to see you! I assumed you’d be at your desk, nose to the grindstone.”

“Yeah well, Shiro sent me out for a coffee run. I figured I’d hide from the wind here, if you don’t mind.” Keith lifted his scarf over his face ostensibly to warm it, though his face already felt plenty warm from Lance’s smile. “When’d you get back into town?” 

“Just yesterday, honestly,” Lance said, leaning delicately against one of the displays. “I’d tell you all about it, but you go abroad all the time, right Mr. Fancy Detective? I heard you were just in London.”

Keith scowled, and Lance wondered if he’d overstepped, Keith seemed to notice the change in Lance’s demeanor and his expression softened, a hint of an apology in his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t get much time to sightsee.” Keith looked back up to see Lance advancing on him, and some primal part of his brain warned him to flee because those were not friendly eyes looking at him. But they weren’t quite hostile either, Lance just looked...hungry.

Lance stopped directly in front of Keith, forcing the detective to note that there was a solid two-inch difference in their height. Not tremendous, but enough that he had to look up slightly, and it made him feel distinctly like he was being hunted. The worst part of that was that he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

Lance reached out and Keith almost jerked away before a dark hand closed around one of the coffee cups that Keith had completely forgotten he was holding. Keith watched dumbly as Lance picked it up, examining it. “Yours?” he asked, and Keith wondered if his voice was always that low.

But he was expecting an answer. Keith shook his head, forcing his mouth to work again. “Uh, no, that one’s Shiro’s. Mine’s this one.” Lance smirked as he placed Shiro’s coffee back in Keith’s hand, moving instead to take the other one. Keith wasn’t sure why he let this happen, but the brush of Lance’s fingers over his felt like electricity so it couldn’t hurt to see what he was doing.

Lance brought the coffee to his lips and took a quick sip, humming in satisfaction, and Keith pretended that he wasn’t staring at Lance’s mouth. “Mmm, we both like it sweet. You have good taste, Officer.” Lance had leaned in and was practically purring his words, and Keith found himself completely frozen, staring at Lance’s eyes. There was so little distance between them, and he couldn’t help but wish there was even less. Some part of him, distant and quiet yet very insistent, suggested that he close the distance himself.

And he might have done just that if the door hadn’t opened again. Keith hissed at the feeling of cold air hitting his back, jumping out of the doorway and wrapping his scarf tighter around himself. Lance laughed at his reaction, a full-throated and genuine sound, and Keith smiled in return.

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” A broad young man stood in the door, and Keith vaguely recognized him as someone who occasionally helped Lance in the store, on the rare occasion that Lance was actually available to work.

“Hunk, my man! Nah, you’re all good, I was just extracting my coffee tax from Officer Kogane here. I just love a good,” he examined the coffee cup briefly, “whatever this is. Have you two guys met each other?”

Keith shook his head, sizing up this ‘Hunk’. A little taller than Keith, much broader, with a smile that took up solidly a third of his face, he looked like the kind of guy you’d cry to after someone broke up with you. Keith liked him immediately. Keith wasn’t impressed by his clothes, which seemed to consist solely of floral patterns and bright colors, but no one was perfect.

“Detective Keith Kogane,” he said, extending a hand as he introduced himself. He received a remarkably firm handshake, to which he responded by slightly escalating the pressure.

“They call me Hunk. Lance and I have known each other since we were in diapers. Nice to meet’cha, Officer!” Hunk’s tone was bright and warm, but there was an edge to his voice that said he had not missed their exchange earlier, and the ever-increasing pressure on his hand said that Hunk would not be afraid to break Keith in half. Keith decided that he really liked Hunk.

“Nice to meet you as well. I should be heading out though, Shiro will be wondering where I am. Can I have my coffee…” he looked at Lance, who was peering at him over the rim of the coffee cup as he drank steadily from it. Keith stared at him until the atmosphere became so awkward that Lance had no choice but to stop chugging his coffee.

Lance gave a satisfied sigh as lowered the coffee from his lips. _Stop looking at his lips, Kogane._ Smirking again, he handed it back to Keith, who was dismayed to find it half-full, but faintly smelling of Lance’s...lip gloss? Keith decided to leave before he made decisions that Hunk would regret watching. Shaking his head, he gave a quick nod to both Lance and Hunk before ducking out of the store, a quick gasp pulled out of him by the constant wind.

The two men watched him leave, managing to hold their stoic faces together for all of seven seconds before collapsing in helpless laughter. They doubled over the floral displays, and Hunk got a faceful of geraniums before they could get themselves under control. Lance’s mother came downstairs to see what the noise was about, but Lance waved her away, still helplessly giggling.

“Oh my god, did you see his face when I was drinking his coffee? He looked like he was about to punch me in the face!”

“Uh, apparently we were looking at two different detectives, because the one I saw looked like he wanted to make out with you. Though maybe that counts as punching you with his lips?”

Lance laughed again at that, threatening to spark another fit of hysterics, but the sound of mother’s sandals clapping on the stairs forced him to compose himself. “C’mon man, we need to get the store straightened up. Would you mind grabbing those pots over there? I wanna split up some of these arrangements.”

Hunk nodded and picked up the pots Lance had indicated, and Lance allowed himself a moment of jealousy at how easy it was for Hunk to carry all three of them. “So when’d you get back in town, man? How was the trip?” Hunk’s eyes were bright and inquisitive, and Lance chuckled a little at how eager he got to hear Lance’s stories.

“I got back in a few days ago. And it was amazing, man, Scotland is so pretty in the fall.” He kicked himself mentally when he realized that he’d given Keith and Hunk two different answers, but they were extremely unlikely to compare notes. Hunk’s brow furrowed at his answer. “Scotland? I thought you had gone to Italy this time.” 

Only years of practice kept Lance’s eyes from widening at that. _Damn, flirting with Keith really messed me up,_ he thought to himself. _I never make gaffes like that._ “Yeah, there was a last-minute change of plans.”

“Huh, that’s weird. Did’ya find anything good out there? And more importantly, did’ya bring me anything back?” Hunk is grinning now, and Lance lets himself breathe again. He feels a small bite of shame at the idea of keeping this a secret from Hunk, but the guy is really better off not knowing. It’s not like it’d help him any to know about Lance’s less...legal activities.

 _I found two beautiful, easily flustered detectives, but something tells me you don’t wanna hear about that._ “Yeah! Lemme run up and grab it real quick. I’ll just be a minute, you don’t mind watching the store?” Receiving a smile and a thumbs-up from Hunk, Lance ran up the stairs to the apartment his family lived in. Most of the kids were at school, so it was relatively quiet save for the noises of his mother, simultaneously cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. Lance would never know how she pulled it off. He ducked into the room he stayed in when he was home, and not off on one of his “rare flower hunts”. In his defense, he always came back with suitcases full of pressed flowers and seeds for the family, ostensibly on the pay of National Geographic or some such organization. He didn’t know if there was such a thing as “professional rare flower-gatherer”, but for now it was a convenient cover.

He opened up his luggage and started digging around, grateful that he’d already gotten rid of the paintings before he’d gotten home. He’d made that mistake once, and his mother had almost come across a sapphire the size of her fist. That would have been hard to explain. He actually chuckled to think of the conversation he’d have with his mother about that kind of thing. A present for a girl, maybe? She’d love for him to bring home a woman to settle down with, though he didn’t see that happening any time soon.

Rummaging through his case finally rewarded him with the wooden trinket he’d picked up for Hunk, a delicate carving of a swan mid-flight. Directly underneath it, kept safe in a white envelope, was a few photos that he took out with great care. _Hunk’ll be fine downstairs for a bit longer,_ he thought to himself as he picked up the delicate pictures, bringing them up to the light. The top one was an overhead angle of a tall man dressed in an extremely well-fitting black vest, his short-cropped black hair shining in the daylight. Lance had taken that from a balcony when he saw the pair of detectives passing underneath him, and he couldn’t help himself. The taller of the pair of detectives that made his life interesting, a one Captain Takashi Shirogane, was certainly a treat to see. Well defined muscles pressing against the tight fit of his clothing; if Lance hadn’t met him personally, he’d swear the man was showing off.

The next image was a drastic change, taken in haste in a dark hallway. The quality was poor to say the least, but Lance didn’t much care. The image of Sergeant Kogane was stark, silhouetted nicely against a well-lit exhibit as he looked to his side, searching for the master thief Blue. Lance chuckled to himself as he examined the image, remembering the look of shock on Keith’s face when the camera had gone off right at his feet. The flash had blinded him temporarily, more than long enough for Lance to escape him, and he’d laughed all the way down the hallway as Keith’s cursing fell quiet behind him. Ah, good memories.

He was just pulling out the rest of the pictures when the sound of his name pricked at his ears. Was Hunk calling him? _Aw crap, how long have I been up here?_ He snatched the wooden bird carving and stuffed the other incriminating evidence back in the case before racing down the stairs. “Coming, coming!” He rushed past his mother, to whom he offered a quick smile and a wink as he continued his breakneck pace. 

He landed at the bottom, having jumped the last five steps, and spun around the banister, his business smile already in place. “Hóla, and welcome to-”

He stopped dead at the sight in front of him. Takashi Shirogane stood at the counter talking amicably with Hunk, though both had stopped to face him when he’d announced his presence. Two simultaneous feelings shot their way up Lance’s spine, and he felt a chill and a flush somehow both accompany them.

First, _that he’d been made._ Somehow Shiro knew who he was, he’d gotten some clue, he’d found some secret, some trail that Lance hadn’t covered. This was completely unreasonable, as Lance took great pains to cover his tracks. Second, and much more logical, _that Shiro looked amazing in a uniform._ Normally he was undercover in some really unfortunate outfit, so this was a nice change. Even previous visits had been in what must have been casual clothes that were truly unfortunate on his perfect body. Lance managed to work these disparate thoughts into a carefully crafted expression of mild surprise, his head tilted just so.

“Captain Shirogane, it’s good to see you again! This is something of a surprise. We just saw your partner earlier.” Lance sauntered behind the counter, leaning over it to gaze up at Shiro. Flirting with Keith was fun, but Shiro was a whole different game, to which Lance was still learning the rules. It didn’t help that Shiro kept changing them.

Shiro laughed, a sound that Lance always felt accomplished in drawing out. “I was wondering why he took so long getting coffee, and why he was so red when he got back. You weren’t teasing him again, were you?” The look in Shiro’s eyes was playful, but also carried a question in them that Lance wasn’t sure he could answer.

He allowed a smirk to play across his lips, noting the way that Shiro’s eyes followed them. “Mmm, no more than I tease you, I promise.” He grinned as Hunk groaned, moving away from the counter to escape Lance’s incessant flirting.

Shiro coughed, putting a hand over his mouth to disguise the faint flush that worked up his cheeks. “Ahem, I, uh, I actually came here to ask you about something. Did you sell a bouquet of flowers yesterday?” Lance was looking at him in a way that made rational thoughts a little hard to put together, made worse by the fact that Shiro knew that it was entirely intentional. 

“Actually Officer, we did,” Lance said, his eyes dancing mischievously, “We actually sold quite a number of bouquets. Could you be more specific?” Lance faked a look of innocence, causing Shiro’s flush to darken.

Shiro took a deep breath to calm himself, feeling like he needed to step outside just to cool down. “This morning, there was a bouquet of flowers that came from your shop on my partner’s desk. No one knows when it got there, though, so I was wondering if you’d seen anything suspicious.” Shiro had assumed his business stance, all idle movement stilled as he focused on Lance, who was finding it very difficult to keep from squirming. It didn’t help that he couldn’t tell if it was from arousal or guilt. But it was that edge that made Shiro so wonderfully different from his scowly partner.

Lance affected a curious tilt of his head, a slight narrowing of his eyes, and a gentle furrowing of his brow as he glanced up and to the left, the very picture of someone trying to remember something. Or someone who looked very kissable, Shiro couldn’t decide “What was in the bouquet? Do you remember? Because if it was unique, that’ll be a lot easier to remember.” Lance was internally screaming because he hadn’t gotten to see Keith’s reaction to the flowers, but he could imagine the scowl on his sharp features, the frustrated set to his shoulders. It nearly brought a grin to Lance’s face, but that would have ruined his mask.

“Actually, I brought the card from the arrangement, here,” Shiro handed over a small handwritten note, describing each of the flowers and their appearance. Lance chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully as he looked it over, wondering what exactly he should say here. No doubt Hunk had called him down because he had in fact been working last night, Hunk could’ve seen that on the computer. And Lance couldn’t deny that the flowers had been purchased. Which meant that he had to cop to someone buying them, and that someone would be tied to Master Thief Blue in some fashion. Which meant he definitely couldn’t say he did it, or that some random person. His eyes traced Shiro’s face as if looking for ideas, and lingered on his lips. _Oh wait, I know another option._

“You know what? I actually do remember this one!” Shiro’s eyes widened and he pulled out a notepad, immediately ready to copy Lance’s words. He couldn’t help a small smile that he managed to turn flirtatious before it became damning. “But wait, hold on. What are you going to give me for the information?” He leaned over the counter, a lazy smile growing over his face as he peered up at Shiro’s baffled expression.

Shiro blinked slowly, looking down at Lance like he’d just grown another head. Another very attractive head, judging by his blush. “Uh, I don’t...typically the police station doesn’t really pay their informants? I guess I could buy some flowers, help out the shop?” He scratched his chin thoughtfully, and Lance could see just a hint of stubble growing there. He wondered how it would feel on his hands. Or between his legs.

“Actually, I was thinking something a little bit different from that, Captain. I’m not looking for money. I just want a little bit of sugar,” the words fell like honey from his tongue, accentuated by a half-lidded gaze that had Hunk gagging behind Shiro. Lance shot him a brief glare that very clearly said _If you ruin this for me, you die._

Shiro’s brow furrowed. “Sugar? I’m not sure that I...oh,” his eyes widened as he grasped Lance’s meaning, and his already flushed cheeks became an even deeper shade of red. Lance leaned his head on his hand, darting out his tongue to lick his upper lip. He actually saw Shiro swallow, and his eyes followed the movements of the tall man’s adam’s apple with an expression Shiro could only parse as ‘hungry’.

“Is this how you want to play, then?” Shiro said, his voice taking on a husky tone that Lance hadn’t expected. “I can appreciate a man who’s persistent,” he placed his notepad on the counter, reaching out a hand cup Lance’s face gently. A blush spread quickly across Lance’s face, and Shiro was gratified to see that he wasn’t the only nervous one here.

Lance internally screamed as Shiro tilted his face up to align it with his own. He honestly had only expected the detective to sputter cutely and let him down gently like he had the last few times, but what was happening right now was honestly so much better. He attempted to speak, but all that came out was a breathy sigh as Shiro pressed their lips together softly, gently, and for far less time than Lance would have liked.

Shiro broke the kiss first, slowly separating himself from Lance. He looked down with more affection than Lance thought was strictly necessary, and both of their faces were bright red, which Lance hoped it was from more than just shame. They spent a second staring at each other, and Lance was about to move back in for another helping when Hunk coughed loudly behind Shiro.

If Lance hadn’t gone from Hopeless Romantic to Furious Best Friend in no time flat, he’d have laughed at the expression on Shiro’s face as he jumped a foot in the air, backing away from Lance. Hunk, however, had no such compunctions, and doubled over in hysterical laughter. Lance bent around Shiro, fixing his friend with a glare that he was sure could curdle milk, but it didn’t deter Hunk’s cackling at all. 

“I, um, I think I should go, I, uh...I forgot to tell Keith where I was going. It was nice kissi- _talking_ with you, Lance. Good seeing you again, Hunk,” Shiro said as he left the store as though the hounds of Hell themselves were on his heels.

Lance vaulted over the counter as soon as Shiro was gone, grabbing Hunk’s shoulders and shaking him as best he could. “How could you?! I thought we were friends, I thought you had my back! I was _kissing Takashi Shirogane_ , and you _ruined_ it!” Lance fell to the ground, collapsed in a heap of melodrama. Hunk finally stopped laughing long enough to breathe, looking down at his friend.

“Yeah, and from what I could tell, that won’t be the last time either,” he said, and Lance perked up just as Hunk knew he would. “That was like, gross rom-com levels of cute, bro.”

“Do you really think?” Lance said, popping up into a crouch. It occurred to a more pragmatic side of him that it had successfully sidetracked Shiro away from who’d bought the bouquet, just as he’d hoped. The man was beautiful, but very predictable.

“God, I hope so. If only Keith were as easy to catch.”

“But if he was, you wouldn’t want him as much. I know you man, and you love the chase, the thrill of it all.” Hunk sat down next to Lance on the floor, smiling in a way that was almost too genuine, too kind. It hurt Lance’s heart a little.

“Love the chase, huh? Yeah, I guess that’s a good way to put it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that was hopefully a nice appetizer. As some of you may know, I'm working on another project, Just Let Go, that is taking up the majority of my focus. As such, this will likely not see updates more than once a week. Thank you all for your time and patience, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and please remember to comment because they feed me. :3


	2. In Which a Thrill is Chased

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all of your kind words! I can't believe the reception this fic got, and I'm overjoyed! I'll probably end up working a bit harder on it, honestly. 
> 
> Without further ado, enjoy Chapter 2!

“For the last time, Detective, I assure you that there is no way that Blue can get inside.” The director’s voice was whiny and annoying, and it took all of Keith’s patience to keep from shouting at him. Fortunately for one of them, he’d made it very clear that he would only speak to Shiro. Keith wasn’t sure who was the lucky one in this deal.

“With all due respect Mr. Armstrong, we’ve heard that in numerous facilities across the world, and as far as we can tell, Blue hasn’t failed yet.” Shiro’s voice was unfailingly calm, though they’d been talking in circles for twenty minutes. Keith leaned back in his chair in the director’s office, noting the decorations that probably had some kind of priceless artistic value, but just looked tacky in Keith’s eyes. 

Actually, it wasn’t just the office. The whole museum was tacky, in Keith’s opinion. The Guggenheim was known for its large collections of impressionist and post-modern art, all of which looked either like a baby vomit on a canvas, or squares drawn by freshman art students. But according to what Pidge had said, this was Blue’s next destination. And regardless of Keith’s own feelings on mysterious anonymous informants with absurd pseudonyms, Pidge’s information had yet to be anything but accurate, so here they were.

Keith leaned towards Shiro during a lull in their conversation. “I’m going to go examine the area,” he whispered, and Shiro nodded his agreement, recognizing Keith’s need to be anywhere but here. Keith mumbled an excuse for his exit that the director ignored completely. _Suits me just fine,_ Keith thought petulantly as he slipped out of the room, walking through the labyrinthine hallways that made up the museum’s interior.

The brilliant lights of the New York nightlife shone through the windows, casting long and dark shadows on the exhibits. Keith figured that such a moment should probably be poetic, but it just felt creepy to him. As he passed by a series of ludicrously magnified photographs, his hand clenched reflexively, brushing against the hilt of his knife, a familiar weight against his thigh. He knew that Shiro hated when he carried it on assignments, but he could never bring himself to leave it at home. 

He smiled to himself when he remembered when Lance had first noticed it. His reaction had been shocked at first, worry darkening his sharp features at the thought of someone carrying a weapon in his store. Keith had reminded him that they were in downtown Chicago, and the odds were very likely that 3 out of 4 people in his store had weapons at any given time.

It had taken a few more visits before Lance had grown comfortable enough with the idea to ask to hold Keith’s knife. Keith’s hand clutched around its sheath as he remembered handing it over, watching Lance’s long fingers handling it with care, almost reverence. Keith had never told Lance why the knife was so important to him, but the way he’d handled the blade made it seem like he knew anyway.

It had been an oddly intimate moment for Keith, standing in a store and surrounded by flowers, watching this young man handle a weapon he’d owned since he was a child. He found his cheeks warming as he brought the memory back, lifting his collar to hide his no doubt scarlet cheeks. There wasn’t anyone here to see him but there was no sense in being unprepared. A chill rushed by him, and he drew his coat closer to his body. The open spaces of the museum were apparently not conducive to warmth.

Keith hadn’t been paying attention to where his feet were carrying him, but he wasn’t surprised to find himself at the entrance to the very exhibit they’d been sent to guard. A collection of Tahitian folklore by Paul Gauguin, it seemed one of the more sensical exhibits to Keith, so he didn’t mind the thought of protecting it. _Not that Shiro and I are here as guards anyway,_ he mentally corrected himself. 

He found himself actually wishing he could go inside the exhibit, but the security systems had already been activated. Laser sensors, motion detectors, and some kind of heat sensor had been set up, in addition to a staggering variety of cameras. Even if Blue got in, they’d be able to get a good look at him, bringing Keith and Shiro one step closer to catching the slippery bastard.

Keith wasn’t stupid. He knew that their odds of actually stopping Blue here were astronomically low. Instead, as Shiro had explained to him on the plane trip here, they were playing a longer game. Each attempted heist gave them more clues, more hints as to Blue’s identity. And once they had that, they could bring the fight to Blue, instead of being forced to play by his rules.

That didn’t make sense to Keith, though. Weren’t they already setting the playing field? Sure, Blue decided when he’d show up, but they knew where it was happening, and they had time to prepare. Except for the fact that Director Armstrong refused to cooperate, this was already being played by their rules. 

“Blue doesn’t decide a damn thing about this scenario,” Keith muttered to himself, shaking his head and crossing his arms. 

“Oh yeah? How can you be so sure about that, Detective?”

Keith froze at the sound of a voice to his left, low and slightly muffled. He turned slowly, his eyes wide in shock. The voice didn’t belong to Shiro, and certainly wasn’t the Director, and the only other person who could have been in the museum after hours was…

Sitting atop a statue, resting his chin on his fist, features unreadable behind a blue lion mask. A black coat billowed behind him in the breeze from an open window, the source of Keith’s earlier chill. Any other features were undetectable in the low light, except for a brown glove that became visible as he waved cheerfully at Keith.

“Blue?” Keith whispered, as though speaking loudly would spook the thief away. He was so close, no more than thirty feet away, and Keith finally had a clear look at him. A thin frame, probably tall though it was hard to tell while he was sitting down, and his hair was covered by the back of his mask. 

“You’re awfully cute when you’re so surprised, you know that?” Blue’s voice was muffled and it sounded altered by his mask, but the overtones of mockery were unmistakable. Keith’s hands clenched, but he forced himself to stay still.

“Do you always compliment the people who try to arrest you?” Keith shot back, unable to keep the venom out of his voice. 

“I only go after works of art,” the thief said, his voice practically purring as he leaned forward. “And out of all the pieces here, you’re the most eye-catching.” Keith could practically hear his smirk in his voice, and it infuriated him.

“Stop that,” Keith said, growling. His arms tensed, still crossed over his chest. What was Blue playing at? Trying to distract him? He didn’t have any known partners, so it wouldn’t matter if Keith was distracted, he was still here in the room with Blue. 

“Is it bothering you? Good. Now you’re hot and bothered.” Keith stiffened, trying not to betray any reaction to Blue’s incessant...flirting? Obnoxious pickup lines? The very idea of a notorious thief spewing lame pickup lines was weird enough, but doing it to a detective who was actively trying to arrest him…

Blue jumped down from the statue and Keith immediately shifted his stance, preparing to charge at him. Now that Blue was in front of his face, had made the colossal mistake of showing himself to an individual who was specifically trained to take down punks like him, there was no way Keith was letting him go. He crouched down and tensed his legs, his eyes narrowing as they focused on the thief’s body. 

“What, you’re already planning to jump me? Why Detective, I’m flattered,” Blue straightened, clearly unprepared for any kind of physical assault. Keith allowed a brief smirk to pull at his lips before launching himself at Blue, his feet pounding as he kept his body low. _Hit the center of gravity, lift him off the ground, throw him down, incapacitate him._ It was a formula he’d followed hundreds of times.

Which made it very confusing when it didn’t work the way he’d planned. Right as he got within arm’s reach of Blue, the thief had gone into motion, planting his hands on Keith’s shoulders and vaulting over him like it was nothing. Keith whipped around, skidding on the smooth floor to face his opponent who was backing away, his hands on his hips. The fact that Blue wasn’t even taking this seriously was making Keith see red, and he charged again.

Blue actually shook his head as Keith approached, clicking his tongue. Again, Blue planted his hands on Keith’s shoulders, but Keith was prepared for it. He grabbed Blue’s wrists, twisting his body down to wrench Blue off-balance. The thief looked nimble, but Keith was able to easily overpower him, dragging him down to the ground. Or, that’s the way it was supposed to happen.

As Keith spun them downwards, the hands on his shoulders released their grips to grab his head instead as Blue’s entire body lunged upward, his legs wrapping around Keith’s torso. The sudden action, and the feeling of a very warm body pressed against his own, threw Keith off enough to let Blue continue his momentum, swinging his body around Keith’s to straddle his back, wrenching Keith’s arms practically out of their sockets.

Keith let go of Blue’s arms immediately, the sudden flaring pain forcing his grip to relent. Blue took the chance to grab one of Keith’s arms, wrenching it painfully behind his back as Blue’s weight forced Keith down to the ground. Keith grunted as his face made sudden, painful contact with the floor, dazing him briefly.

He groaned as Blue settled his weight more comfortably on his back, wrenching Keith’s arm again to make sure that the detective behaved himself. Keith’s other arm was stretched out in front of him, and any attempt to move it was met by another painful twist in his held arm.

“You know Detective, I’d hoped for something a little more romantic than this. But while it’s not ideal, at least I still ended up on top of you,” Blue’s voice whispered directly into Keith’s ear, and Keith shivered at the feeling of warm breath on his ear. The sudden realization that he’d felt breath on his ear made Keith stiffen. At some point the thief had removed his mask, and if Keith could just look around, he could figure out who Blue was. He lifted his head and was immediately pushed back down, grunting as Blue shoved his face into the floor.

“This is actually kinda funny, Kogane. Whenever I imagined us on the floor together, it’s always you on top. But I guess this is fun, too.” Keith growled at the floor, hoping that the cool ground would keep the flush on his face from showing too obviously. _Focus on the voice, Kogane, not the words. Don’t let him get to you, just memorize what his voice sounds like when he’s not wearing his-is that his hand on my butt._

Keith stiffened as he felt Blue’s hands roam over his body, the thief humming appreciatively. Keith began to struggle under him, met with more painful twists of his arm, but he refused to relent. He was not going to let Blue molest him like this. He managed to struggle enough to get his free arm under him, about to use the leverage to throw Blue off. 

_Click._

That wasn’t a good noise. Keith felt something close on his wrist as Blue’s weight left his back, and he shifted his arm experimentally to find his range of motion drastically restricted. He turned around to his arm shackled with his own handcuff to the base of a statue, as well as Blue leaning against a wall, just out of arm’s reach. His mask was back on, Keith noted.

Blue whistled at the sight, a hand on his hip. “You know, you hide those handcuffs way too well on your person. Not that I totally minded having an excuse to feel you up, because good God are you toned. Do you do like, P90X or something? I didn’t feel any body fat on you, and that’s absurd.”

“Do you ever stop babbling?” Keith growled, searching through his belt for the key to his handcuffs. Did this idiot think that he didn’t keep the key to his own handcuffs with him?

“If you’re looking for this,” Blue said, twirling a key around his finger, “You can stop. Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to leave the key on you?”

“Yes,” Keith answered immediately. “Yes, I do.”

Blue leaned in, still just barely out of reach. “Mmm, it’s good that you’re cute, because you’re not very smart. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a few paintings to take. My east wall is looking really bare, and I think these colors will match marvelously with the Houghtons.” He actually laughed as he walked away, and Keith lunged uselessly at him, watching the statue that held him down wobble dangerously.

“It doesn’t matter that you handcuffed me, you’ll never get past the security system!” Keith didn’t actually believe that for a second, he just needed to be loud enough to get Shiro here, and to keep Blue talking until then.

“Oh what, the system I disabled an hour ago? Please. Thank you both for distracting the Director by the way, I couldn’t ask for two more helpful partners.” He never paused in his saunter away from Keith, and if Keith had been less enraged, he might have appreciated the way Blue swayed his hips.

It wounded Keith’s pride deeply, but he had no other choice at this point. “Shiro! Dammit Shiro, where are you?!” Blue jumped at the sudden yell, turning back briefly before sprinting down the hallway towards the exhibit. Oh sure, the thought of Shiro made him jumpy, but Keith was just a toy. Good to know where he stood on the totem pole.

After another solid thirty seconds of shouting, Keith remembered that he had a phone in his pocket. Its intended use was likely not to call one’s partner while handcuffed to art, but it was effective nonetheless.

After five rings, Keith remembered that Shiro had put his phone on silent while talking to the Director. Of course he had. “It’s respectful,” Shiro had said. Keith couldn’t tell what exactly was respectful about all of this, but it was probably not what Shiro had intended. He could still hear Blue clattering around in the exhibit, but every tug on the handcuffs just caused the statue to tremble, and Keith decided that there must be ways out of this without destroying a priceless work of art. He just couldn’t think of any.

Another few minutes of futile struggling, and Blue was back in front of him. He couldn’t see the thief’s face past the ridiculous mask that was only looking dumber the more Keith looked at it, but he would bet money on Blue wearing a shit-eating grin under the mask.

“Decided against the paintings?” Keith says, trying to keep his voice level underneath his fury. 

Blue actually laughed at that, his head tilting back. “Don’t you worry your pretty head, they’re on their way out of here.”

“What? How?” Keith can’t stop himself from asking, even though he knows it’s exactly what Blue wants. It puts the thought in Keith’s head that this whole event was planned, staged, and he’d walked perfectly into the thief’s hands. He nearly starts trembling in rage at the idea, but a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye kept him going.

“Now now, Kogane. A magician never reveals his secrets,” Blue leaned in closer, his tilted head looking inhuman in the mask. Keith considered lunging ahead, but Blue had already proven that he’s fast. Maybe faster than Keith.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Keith said, letting a trace of his anger bleed into his voice. “You’re nothing more than a petty thief. Even a magician wouldn’t associate with you..”

Blue’s head just tilted further, as if curious. “‘Even’ a magician? Do you have something against magicians?” He straightened up, sounding completely serious. “I’ll have you know that the good men and women of prestidigitation are the backbone of our society.”

“What?” Keith couldn’t honestly believe that he was debating the societal roles of magicians with a thief, but he just needed to keep him talking a little while longer. “That’s completely absurd. Everyone knows that stand-up comedians are the real heroes of our generation.”

“Are you serious right now? Come on man, those witless hacks wouldn’t know a good joke if it bit them in the-” He broke off, feeling a pressure against his back that definitely felt unwanted.

“You know what’s great about my partner?” Keith said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “His sense of timing.”

Shiro smirked behind Blue, pressing the taser harder against the thief’s back. Blue raised his hands slowly, sighing behind his mask as Shiro took a pair of handcuffs off of his belt. 

“Blue, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against-” he broke off as Blue gave an obnoxiously loud yawn, startling both Keith and Shiro. “You, um, you have the right to an-” Another yawn interrupted him, more pointed this time. Shiro ground his teeth and Keith had to fight to keep back a snort of laughter.

“My god, you are boring,” Blue said, cracking his neck from side to side. Shiro pressed the taser into Blue’s back hard enough to force him to stumble forward, drawing a yelp from the thief. “All right, all right, fine. Lemme just-” He suddenly lunged downwards, planting himself in a handstand in front of Keith as he kicked the taser out of Shiro’s hands. Blue’s momentum carried him into a front flip, landing in a graceful crouch as he caught the taser, pointing it at Shiro. He looked at the weapon in confusion. “Were you seriously not holding a gun? What kind of cop are you?”

“The kind that doesn’t need to shoot people,” Shiro said right as Keith’s foot lashed out, catching the thief in the side. Distracted as he was by Shiro, Blue only had time to raise his arm to block the strike, the force still sending him skidding across the ground. Shiro attempted to capitalize on the opportunity, lunging at Blue. He landed heavily on the thief’s back, throwing his weight down right as Blue’s hand pointed over his head, firing the taser blindly behind him and catching Shiro in the chest. 

A stifled scream left Shiro’s mouth as his body convulsed, collapsing on top of Blue. The thief groaned before pushing himself free, standing up carefully, checking his arm for damage. He looked back over at Keith, who was pleased to see that at least the mask had been knocked askew. The thief had short hair, likely dark, though the color was hard to tell in the dim lighting.

“Damn,” Blue cursed softly, looking down at Shiro. “That is a damn waste of a beautiful man, to leave him like this. Sadly, I can hardly carry out a piece that heavy. So I guess you two get to stick around here for a bit longer.” He took out the key to Keith’s handcuffs, twirling it briefly before dropping it on the ground, just out of Keith’s reach. “Just so you know, though,” he said, calling over his shoulder as he walked towards the open window, “You two have gotten closer than anyone else has. And with such beautiful gentlemen,” he turned back towards them, his heels dangling off the third-story ledge, “I can’t say that I mind getting close.” 

The bastard had the actual nerve to shoot finger guns at Keith before tipping himself over. Keith let out an involuntary warning, but the sound of Blue’s laughter faded into silence out of Keith’s view. He looked over at Shiro, still unconscious, and the key lying between them. 

Allura was not going to be happy about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally gave y'all a look at Lance in his Thief persona. I enjoyed writing this chapter so much, and I hope y'all liked reading it! As always, comments keep me running, and kudos keep my skin clear!


	3. In Which a Fox's Den Is Disturbed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! I am so sorry that I haven't updated this is so long, life has been sapping my willpower lately. However, I have absolutely not given up on this, or on Just Let Go! Updates just might be a little...slower than before. So, thank you all for understanding, and I hope you enjoy!

Lance reclined in the hard metal of the cafe chair, cursing the cheap cafe for its adherence to hipster aesthetics. Would it have killed them to put a cushion on the damn seat? He distracted himself by taking a sip of his coffee, humming contentedly at the sweet flavor as he allowed himself to indulge in his favorite post-heist activity: reviewing.

He looked over his notepad, filled with random scribbles and doodles that would be incomprehensible to anyone but him. He’d been sloppy on this run, but intentionally so. There was no fun playing with cats if you didn’t give them a look at what they were chasing. And while he could have easily gotten in and out with no trouble whatsoever, he didn’t want Keith and Shiro quitting the case. From what he’d seen of them, he didn’t think that they necessarily would quit, unless they were forced to, but he didn’t want to run that risk. Better the devil you know, and all that, particularly if the devils in question were as handsome as these two.

He had been pleasantly surprised by their ability to coordinate. If Shiro had been there the whole time, Lance wasn’t sure he would have escaped, or at least not with his identity intact. The hold Shiro had almost gotten him into would have been nearly inescapable, and Lance felt himself shiver a little at the idea of being held down by him in a different context. _Focus, McClain, you’re not here to fantasize about boys._

He decided to focus on the modifications, instead. He had a call scheduled with Pidge soon, and she’d want to know the results of her new toys. The mask had done its job wonderfully, enhancing night vision while obscuring his face completely. He wasn’t sure how Pidge had managed to make the dime-store mask opaque on one side and translucent on the other, but it made his job so much easier. As he wrote down specific notes on how clear the mask’s interior had been, he found his writings drifting to the striking violet that he’d seen in Detective Kogane’s eyes. He just managed to catch himself before he started doodling hearts around the detective’s name like some kind of love-struck grade schooler.

But then he decided to do it anyway. It’s not like anyone seeing these notes would be able to decipher his code. The particular cypher he used was one he’d been developing and refining since he was twelve, and consisted solely of seemingly random loops and curved lines. Originally created to hide notes from his nosy family, it had come in handy when he’d started planning his first heist. He put down his pen, leaning back and closing his eyes as he remembered when he’d first started stealing, and what a rush it had been. He was still chasing that high even now, though the stakes had gotten significantly higher. That just made it all the more fun.

He was shaken out of his reminiscing when he felt the table shift on its uneven legs, and he cracked an eye open to see two unexpected individuals. They were seated across the table from each other, flanking him on either side as they glared at him. Given previous interactions, he wasn’t sure whether to be aroused or afraid.

“Rolo. Nyma,” he mumbled in greeting. Their glares only became more intense, if anything, and he was forced to open his eyes fully and address them. “What are you two doing here? I thought I told you not to approach me at home.”

“We’re not at your home, are we?” Nyma shot back, adjusting her four ponytails as she regarded him. He gave her appearance a quick once-over, noting her light, fashionable jacket and slim jeans. He admired her adherence to fashion even in the Chicago fall, and she wasn’t shivering at all so he couldn’t really fault her for it. Rolo was dressed similarly, though he at least had gloves covering his large hands.

Lance leaned forward, his expression remaining civil while his tone turned icy. “You’re in my city. That’s close enough. I set these rules in place for a reason, Nyma.” She showed no obvious reaction to his tone, but he knew her well enough to recognize the set of her chin. Whatever they came here to say, he wasn’t going to be able to stop them.

“We were hoping to discuss your, ah, _behavior_ , recently. At our event a few days ago.” Rolo was trying to be subtle, and Lance nearly rolled his eyes. Rolo had the nimblest fingers this side of the Atlantic Ocean, a fact to which Lance could personally attest, but his acting skills needed work. “See, we’re worried that you’re not taking this seriously anymore.”

“We saw you playing with dogs, Lance. You know full well why that’s a bad idea.” Nyma’s voice was filled with mixed notes of anger and worry, and Lance couldn’t help softening a little. 

“Guys,” Lance started, but Rolo cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Hey, it’s okay, we get it. It’s hard for you to control yourself around pretty people! Believe us, we understand that,” Rolo said, placing one of his hands over Lance’s. Lance gazed down at the affectionate gesture, then back up to Rolo with his eyes narrowed slightly. He was offered a surprisingly gentle smile from both of them as Nyma placed her hand on his shoulder. “And it’s not gonna be a problem, because you’re gonna cut it out, right? You’re not gonna jeopardize our enterprise because you’ve got a crush? Not when you’ve got two perfectly good partners right here…” Rolo let the statement trail off, his eyebrows cocked.

Lance’s eyes widened and he jerked himself back out of their hands, only just barely keeping himself from standing up. “In case you forgot,” he hissed at them, his hands clenched around the arms of his chair, “neither of you get a say over what I do anymore. We’re business partners, and nothing more.” They both exchanged a glance at his words, and just as he expected, their expression changed from being warm and friendly back to the cold stone he knew had been just under the surface.

“Alright, _Alejandro_ , would you rather play it this way?” Rolo asked, ignoring how Lance’s eyes widened at the use of his name. “Fine. We don’t want you screwing up anymore because you’re only thinking with the head in your pants. So you’re gonna stop, or else.”

“Or else what?” Lance demanded, his temper and voice rising at them ordering him around. “Maybe you forgot that I’m the one who invited you two into this whole ‘event’? Maybe you forgot that I’m the one the people know, and not you two? And maybe you’ve forgotten why you lost the right to call me by that name!”

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, then Lance sat back against his chair, suddenly exhausted by his outburst. He ran a hand through his hair, looking over the pair in front of him. “You could have called me about this. You didn’t have to come in person. Why are you two really here?” He tried not to think about what they had been, what they had meant to him. They were the first people he’d ever been able to trust with both of his identities, and that had led to certain levels of intimacy.

“We want you back,” Nyma said, clearly less willing to let it go. Lance sighed at that, and he didn’t need to look at her to see how it intensified her glare. “You can’t deny that we had something good there, and we worked _well_ together, Lance!”

“Nyma, I can’t just...wait…” Lance’s gaze turned thoughtful as things started to click. He’d thought that they seemed off the night of the Guggenheim heist because they’d both heard him flirting and playing with the detectives. He didn’t think they’d seen him, but Keith had been happy to narrate damn near everything he’d done, so they hadn’t needed to. “You two are jealous, aren’t you?”

“What? No!” Nyma’s rejection was somewhat undermined when Rolo responded with “Absolutely.” They shared a brief glare, and Lance had to resist the urge to laugh, feeling so familiar with this situation. 

“Look, Ale-Lance,” he corrected himself upon Lance’s glare, “We just don’t much care for the idea of you laying with dogs! You’re better than that. _We_ were better than that. And it’s been a while, we’ve had time to cool down, clear our heads, do some soul-searching. Come on buddy, what d’ya say?” Rolo placed his hand palm-up on the table, and it was so familiar that Lance almost gave him his hand. Instead, he closed Rolo’s, shaking his head.

“I gave you my answer two months ago. We’re business partners now, nothing else. And we work just fine without...all of that.” That was clearly not the answer Rolo and Nyma had been looking for, judging by their faces. 

Nyma looked ready to say something else, but Rolo reached over and clasped his hand over hers, shaking his head. “Alright then,” he said, standing up and cracking his back. “Let us know when you’re planning something else. But I think you’ll come around; you’re not gonna find anyone who knows you like we do.” He ruffled Lance’s hair, laughing as Lance batted him off before the pair walked away, arm in arm.

As Lance watched them walk away, he briefly let himself remember what it had been like to be in between them, on the rare occasion they could all join up and go out. He remembered it feeling, perhaps not quite safe, but right. It had been comfortable between them. _Nyma’s weight, warm and comforting, pressed against his side. Rolo’s arm wrapped around his waist, holding him close. Two pairs of lips, soft and inviting, against-_

 _That is quite enough of that, thank you very much!_ Lance scolded himself mentally, his face bright red as he buried his head in his arms. Those were not memories that he wanted to dwell on, at least not in public. That was definitely delving into private time memories.

Too many things to think about crowded into Lance’s mind at once. He wished that Nyma and Rolo hadn’t chosen right now to come confront him about this, when he was still trying to sort out his own feelings in this regard. Blue’s side was easy enough; flirt with them, mess with them, rob’em blind while they weren’t looking. Lance’s side, unfortunately, was far more complicated. Did he want an actual relationship with Shiro? Or with Keith? Or both? And the fact remained that even if he did, he might not even be able to while they still worked tirelessly to apprehend his alter ego.

Leaning back in his chair, he briefly entertained the thought of giving up stealing. Wouldn’t that be a fascinating end to Blue? To simply vanish without a trace, never to be seen again. It had a certain romantic flair in Lance’s mind, that his last theft would be of himself. But the ache that set in his stomach at the thought of never going on another heist, never feeling that indescribable rush was too much to bear, even just for thought. Plus, Pidge would kill him if she didn’t have someone to test out all her new trinkets with.

Thinking of which, he was still waiting on her call. Finally relaxing after Nyma and Rolo’s ‘visit’, he pulled out his phone to ensure that it wasn’t on silent and that he hadn’t missed her call. His screen was free of notifications however, save for a few from Instagram. He browsed idly, taking a sip of his coffee and immediately regretting it as he swallowed the cold liquid. 

“Blegh,” he mumbled, setting the cup down while he tried to think of what to do with the half-cup still remaining. He probably couldn’t dump it in the nearby plants without hurting them, nor could he leave it on the table without insulting the baristas. And he would hate to do that, it was actually good while it was still hot. Or even lukewarm, really. Just not...cold. _That’s the problem with a life spent taking things_ , Lance mused as he stared at the brown liquid, _You never really learn how to get rid of anything._

As he contemplated the cup, mocked by ruined remains of art crafted in milk froth, he heard breathing behind him unmistakably approaching his chair. He tensed involuntarily, forcing himself to relax because _you’re not Blue right now, you can’t go jumping at every sound that a normal person wouldn’t even hear_. The breathing became footsteps from heavy shoes drawing closer, two pairs of feet attached to bodies that he could tell from their rhythm were trained, nearly military. Lance just barely resisted the urge to bolt. 

Not bolting turned out to the be the right answer, because he recognized the low voice behind him. “Lance?”

Lance felt a grin spread across his face at the sound of Shiro’s voice behind him. That meant that the other pair of boots must be Keith. Schooling his expression into one of pleasant surprise, he turned around to see his favorite detectives standing behind him. He sucked in a breath and nearly swallowed his tongue when he looked at them, because they were both in uniform, and he considered their beauty to be a personal attack.

Despite the chill in the air, Shiro had his sleeves rolled up to his elbow, which both exposed his very well muscled forearms and caused Lance’s brain to temporarily short-circuit. He glanced at Keith in the hopes of a reprieve, but instead was treated to a view of the detective’s collarbone, courtesy of a loosened tie and a few undone buttons. Lance internally cursed whatever gods were toying with him and decided to keep his eyes resolutely on their faces.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, officers?” Lance’s voice was low with an edge of sultry, though the rising blush in Keith’s face suggested it had been more than just an edge. “It’s rare that I see either of you without a counter in between us.” Lance nudged the chairs beside him out towards the detectives, inviting them to sit with him. Shiro took a seat gratefully, sighing as he collapsed in the chair. Keith stayed standing, leaning over the back of the other chair.

Shiro took a long drink of his coffee before answering, though his eyes remained locked on Lance’s over the cup. “We needed a break from the office. We’ve both been neck-deep in paperwork since our last-” Shiro broke off, searching for a word, “-caper. It didn’t really go well for us.”

Lance fended off a grin, opting instead for a wide-eyed look of sympathy that was only slightly sarcastic. “Oh no, what happened? Did you let an international terrorist get away, or something?” Lance eyed Keith’s coffee hungrily, looking up at the younger detective with puppy eyes.

“No, you have your own,” Keith muttered at him, though his eyes refused to meet Lance’s. “And honestly, you’re not too far off. Blue got away from us again, though I finally got a good look at the bastard.” Keith was growling into his coffee, and he could feel his resolve to hold onto it slip away as Lance’s forlorn look bored into him.

Shiro chuckled as Keith groaned and handed Lance his coffee, feeling grateful that Lance didn’t care for black coffee. “It was disappointing, but as I’ve told Keith several times, we’re playing a long game here. Blue has evaded capture for years, and we’ve only had the case for a few months. We have a lot more clues now, including his height and general weight. That’s something.”

“Oh yeah?” Lance said, leaning forward in his chair towards Shiro. He knew that Shiro could see the edge in his expression that was slightly more than friendly, but he was clearly ignoring it for now. It seemed inappropriate to indulge in that while Keith was here. “So, you two think that you’re close to finding him? Because honestly, Mom’s been pretty worried that Blue will decide that our shop will become worth plundering, though I think it’d be a pretty big downgrade.”

“I don’t know about that,” Keith said thoughtfully, taking his coffee back from Lance. “It has at least one piece of art worth taking.” The look in Keith’s eyes as he stared at Lance was unmistakably desire, and Lance’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red when their eyes met. He coughed in an attempt to regain his composure, and decided to turn the tables.

“Is that so? If he’s after that kind of art, aren’t you worried that you’ll be his next target?” Lance dialed up the charm on that one, which never failed to make Keith groan and roll his eyes in that annoyingly attractive way of his. Lance turned to Shiro as Keith made a show of his annoyance, and found that he couldn’t resist playing both sides. “Both of you, actually. Can’t say I’d mind stealing the two of you for a little while.” It was extremely gratifying to see Shiro’s eyebrows raise at that, and to hear Keith fighting to not spit out his coffee.

He’d flirted with both of them separately before, but never together. He rarely saw them at the same time at all, so he didn’t get many chances to do so. _Can you really blame me for taking advantage of the opportunity?_ He asked himself, knowing full well that the answer was a resounding _Yes, you absolute idiot._

Despite his inner dialogue, he leaned back with a Cheshire grin on his face as he watched their reactions. Keith’s face was a mixture of shock and something that was either arousal or offense or both, and Shiro just looked thoughtful as he regarded Lance, like he couldn’t tell if Lance was joking or not. Lance fixed him with a look that said in no uncertain terms that he was _not_ joking, and Shiro’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly. 

“Wh-what?” Keith finally said, stammering as his brain desperately attempted to process what had just happened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Deciding that right now was not the time for obfuscating sarcasm, no matter how badly he wanted to backpedal, Lance barreled ahead. “I’m saying that I wouldn’t mind getting some private time with either-or both-of you. And unless I’ve been massively misreading the signals here,” Lance yawned and stretched his arms up, watching as two sets of eyes moved down to the strip of skin revealed by his shirt hiking up, “you two feel the same way. About me, at least, though I can’t imagine that there isn’t at least a little bit of attraction between you two. You’ve got that whole buddy-cop bromance thing going on.”

Shiro and Keith glanced at each other, and there was so much tension in the air that Lance wondered if he’d pushed too far, too fast. That feeling got worse when Keith, arms stiff and neck tense, straightened up and shoved the chair into the table. Lance jumped at the sudden sound as Keith walked away, completely ignoring Shiro calling after him.

There was a moment of silence as Lance gathered himself, watching Shiro’s reaction. They back leaned back, and Shiro slumped in his chair with an expression on his face very similar to exhaustion. It made him seem much older than the twenty-nine year-old that Lance knew was sitting next to him.

“Did I say something wrong, then? Should we go after him?” Lance said tentatively, his voice somewhat more timid than he truly felt. 

Shiro gave a rueful laugh and shook his head. “I don’t think so, to both of those. The issue isn’t with you, though I doubt either of us expected you to be so...forward. Keith just has, um, a few things to work out. I’ll talk to him later.” Lance wasn’t sure he was happy with that answer but Shiro seemed keen to change the topic. “What are you drawing there?”

“Just some idle doodling, keeping my hand busy while I think.” The answer was automatic, out of Lance’s mouth before he even had time to formulate it. “It can be a little hard for me to sit still, so drawing helps. Never put in the effort to actually get good, though.” Shiro nodded, his eyes scanning Lance’s page. “What, did you want to take a look at it?”

“No, it’s just that,” Shiro trailed off, his brows furrowing. Lance almost got worried before Shiro continued. “They almost look organized? Like you were about to start writing letters, but kept breaking off halfway through.”

Lance felt a laugh bubble in his throat and let it out, sure that Shiro wouldn't be able to detect the sound of his panicked thrill at Shiro being so close in so many ways. “My mom used to say the same thing! I’m sure that a psychiatrist would have a field day with it, but as far as I know, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Shiro seemed to accept that as he leaned back in his chair, and there was another minute of strained silence. Lance wanted desperately to fill it, to say something, but he couldn’t decide what. Should he backtrack? Take back what he said, pretend that he didn’t constantly fantasize about Shiro’s arms, and his eyes, and his mouth?

“Did you mean what you said?”

It took Lance a second to register Shiro’s voice, another to process the words, and a third to decide on a course of action. “What, about stealing you? I think I’d have a hell of a time trying to carry you because you’re what, twice my body mass? But I think I’d give it a good faith effort and maybe even get down the-” he broke off, seeing the look in Shiro’s eyes that said that joking was not the right choice in this situation.

“I want to know if you’re serious, Lance.” Shiro’s voice had a note of something that Lance didn’t expect. Something that sounded like vulnerability, and it didn’t sound right in his deep baritone. Whatever it was, Lance wants it gone.

“I’m not good at serious,” Lance said, surprising both of them with his honesty. “I’m good at playing dumb, and teasing, and making fun of things. But that, um, what I said before...I think yeah. I was being serious. I’m serious about you.” 

The words had an obvious and immediate effect on Shiro. One that made Lance very happy to watch, as Shiro’s cheeks started to flush, followed by his entire face and even his ears. Even better to watch was the smile that spread shyly across his face. Lance could feel a matching one pull at his lips, and he let it go happily.

Something seemed to catch Shiro’s attention and it pulled down his smile. “What about Keith? Are you…” he trailed off, seeming unsure about where he wanted that sentence to go. 

Lance shrugged, but Shiro’s look made it clear that he expected a more in-depth answer. “Short answer, I’m serious about him too. I started flirting with him first, but he also just ran off, and you’re still right here.” Shiro had gone thoughtful, and Lance couldn’t tell if that was bad or not. “Does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t considered it,” Shiro said slowly, as if considering each word. “I knew that you flirted with him, and it impossible to miss you flirting with me, but the idea that you were actually simultaneously pursuing both of us…” Lance couldn’t quite read his face, but he didn’t look upset. Just pensive, which was a very good look for Shiro. “What are you expecting, Lance?”

The question took Lance by such surprise that he found himself reverting to humor. “I was kind of expecting to getting some tongue by this point, honestly, but it looks like yours is a little tied at the moment.” There was an uncomfortable pause where Lance kicked himself for joking, but then Shiro was laughing, and it’s free and low and warm, something Lance could feel deep in his stomach that was way more than just the sound of his laughter.

And when Shiro reached across the table and took Lance’s hand, holding it like it’s something precious, Lance felt it more. The feeling reached up into his chest when Shiro leaned over the table to cup Lance’s face in his hand. And it spilled into his face in a luminescent blush when their lips touched, warm and electric and so _right_ that he barely remembered his own name because that’s not nearly as important as the feeling of this man’s lips on his own.

Lance almost whined when he felt Shiro break the kiss, but he wasn’t gone for more than a breath before Lance felt him again, harder this time, slightly needier, and suddenly the kiss went from being perfect to being not nearly enough. Lance reached up, wrapping an arm around Shiro’s neck to pull him down, get him closer, to feel more of this sensation that he didn’t know he needed. Shiro happily complied, and there’s the press of a smile against Lance’s lips that he thought he should take as a challenge, but doesn’t. He felt Shiro’s hand on his shoulder move down, touching lightly down his side until it settles on his waist and he can’t believe that there’s still a table between them and _why am I not already in his lap_?

Their mouths separated and met two more times before they paused for any meaningful period, breathless and wide-eyed as they stared at each other. Lance knew that if they kissed again they weren't going to stop, and a very large part of him wanted them to never stop and damn whoever is watching because he’s wanted Shiro for months and now he had him. Judging by the way Shiro was panting and where his eyes were darting, he’s in a very similar boat. So Lance flung away his inhibitions and public decency laws and leaned in again-

Just in time for a high-pitched beeping noise to pierce their eardrums as Lance’s phone started rattling on the metal table. The noise startled Lance enough for him to jerk his head, colliding painfully with Shiro’s and forcing them away from each other and back to reality. Even worse, he recognized this ringtone. It’s one that he definitely couldn't ignore.

“S-sorry,” Lance hissed, clutching his head. He thought he bit his tongue, too. He heard a deep chuckle across the table, and looked up to see Shiro holding a hand over his mouth, laughing at the situation, probably. Lance couldn’t help but smile at the sight, so unused to Shiro looking unabashedly happy. He glanced down at his phone and sure enough, the screen lit up with the name _Little Miss Holt_. “Shiro, I’m so sorry, I have to take this.”

Shiro just nodded and kept laughing, and Lance couldn’t find it in himself to be anything less than deliriously happy. Lance realized that Shiro’s hand was still on his. Smiling, he turned his hand up and lightly dragged his fingers on the detective’s skin, glad that he wasn't holding the prosthetic. He brought the phone to his ear right as it was ringing for the last time and tapped the green button, hearing an aggravated huff on the other side.

“Hola, McClain here,” he said, still watching Shiro’s reaction as their fingers interlocked. 

“What the hell took so long, dumbass? You know full well that I don’t have all the time in the world.” The voice on the other line was annoyed, slightly modulated to be just a hair higher than Lance knew was its actual register. 

“Hey, kiddo! Good to hear from you, too!” He untangled his fingers from Shiro, shooting an apologetic look over as he stood up. 

“Kiddo. Dammit, you’re with someone? How quickly can you get away?” The advantage of having worked with someone as long as Lance had worked with Pidge was that they understood each other. A fact for which Lance was insanely grateful.

“Gimme just a minute,” Lance said, ignoring Pidge’s exasperated groan. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re calling late!” He leaned back towards Shiro, grinning as he brushed his lips past the man’s cheek. “We’ll continue this later, I promise,” he said quietly, practically breathing in Shiro’s ear. He relished the shiver he could feel go through Shiro’s body, grinning as he leaned back. Shiro’s hand lingered for just a moment on Lance’s, and his smile as he turned away lingered for much longer.

“I want you to know that you just took me away from what could have been one of the best makeout sessions of my entire life,” he hissed into his phone. He heard a laugh that was quickly smothered, and let a smirk grow on his face. Pidge hated when he made her laugh.

“Does that mean that you’re back with Rolo and Nyma? Those two are bad news, and you know it,” Pidge said, her voice tinged with a curious and unfamiliar emotion.

“Aww, Pidge, are you worried about me? That’s so cute! If I had you here, I’d pinch those cute little cheeks of yours!” Lance’s voice leapt into high registers as he teased, kicking a rock down the sidewalk as he went. The city was winding down around him, the low lights of downtown blinking into existence as the sun lowered, and Lance gazed up as the cloudy twilight contrasted his own sunny mood.

“You know that I’d tase you if you tried,” Pidge said in an unimpressed monotone. It drew another laugh out of Lance, and Pidge huffed. “You’re awfully perky today, even more than usual. It’s not Rolo and Nyma, then...those two detectives of yours?”

“Bingo!” Lance said, unable to keep the grin off of his face. “Or, one of them at least. Pidge, he is such a good kisser, and he’s so handsome, and I just, I can’t deal with it!”

“Yeah yeah, I’m glad and all that you’re happy, but you know that I definitely don’t call you to talk about your love life, right?” Lance could hear the smirk in Pidge’s voice, but pretended for the sake of their banter that he didn’t.

“Okay fine, I’ll tone it down. What do you wanna hear about first?” Lance realized that he’d left his notepad with Shiro, but shrugged as it’d give him a reason to go back for the detective later.

“Let’s go over the mask. I’m still surprised that I managed to make anything out of that piece of dime store crap, so I want to know how it did.” 

Lance considered for a second, remembering the blue tint of the world through the mask’s surface. “The night vision application went perfectly. Excellent visual acuity out to about a hundred feet, it tracked movement well, and I loved the blue tint at the edge of my vision, that was a nice touch.”

“Only a hundred feet? Tch, I was going for far more than that. But then again, given the close quarters…” Pidge trailed off and Lance could hear scribbling in the background, waiting for her to return. “The blue tint wasn’t something I did on purpose, but rather a quirk of the shitty plastic itself. I’m glad it worked, though. It’s very you.” 

Lance grinned, ducking into an alleyway. “Let’s consider it a happy coincidence. The colors stayed true within my periphery though, so that’s good.”

"‘Cause it let you see your new boyfriend’s eyes so well?” Lance could almost see Pidge sticking her tongue out, and he rolled his eyes as he started scaling the wall in front of him. He could have made do with just the windows and exposed piping, but the fire escape made it much easier.

“Because it helped me figure out which paintings were best. You know that my buyers don’t take anything but the best,” he said, his voice slightly breathless from the climb as he neared the fifth floor. He might have chosen a shorter apartment building to climb, but he wanted a good view. “D’you wanna hear about the gloves?”

An affirmative hum came across the phone. Lance smirked as he heard Pidge writing something down. For some reason, she still used pencils despite her obsession with technology, and Lance found the anachronism endearing. He waited until she had finished writing, and was ready to hear more.

“Overall, they were good. Excellent grip, made climbing a hell of a lot easier, and that property you gave them, where they can store and transfer fingerprints? That was amazing.” Lance let how impressed he was carry into his voice. Given that he only paid Pidge occasionally, he wanted her to know that he appreciated her, and he could practically hear her preen on the phone.

From the way she hummed happily, he knew she appreciated it. “That’s all well and good, but I knew those features would work. How about the shock function? I saw that you went hand-to-hand with the detectives in the mask’s built-in camera, but I didn’t notice you use the best part of those gloves.”

Lance froze at the edge of the roof. _That would have made that fight so much easier_ , he thought, mentally cursing himself for forgetting that particular function. “Not gonna lie Pidge, totally forgot that was a thing. Probably works fine though, knowing you. Sometimes I wonder how you pack that kind of tech into such small packages.”

“You forgot it?!” Pidge screeched into the phone, nearly causing Lance to drop it in surprise. “That was the _one_ thing I specifically asked you to use! I need to make sure that the internal power isn’t too high, which could cause it to sear the hand that’s wearing it!” Lance’s brows quirked at that piece of information, which had certainly not been given to him before. “And you don’t you dare try flattery on me, you know it just makes me mad.”

“Well, given the new information about hand-searing, maybe it’s for the best that I didn’t use it,” Lance huffed, flinging himself over the lip of the roof and sighing as he took in the view. “Hey, Pidge?” He said, feeling oddly sentimental as he looked at the sunset.

Pidge seemed to pick up on it. “Yeah, what’s up?” Her voice had lost its edge from a few seconds ago, and she seemed intent on his words. 

“D’you ever about, you know, just quitting? Taking what we already have and just letting everything else go?”

“What, skipping town and starting a new life somewhere?” There was a trace of a laugh in her voice, but Lance knew her well enough to note the slight tremor she tried to mask.

“I don’t know about that. I like it here well enough, and there’s a fair bit still keeping me here. But starting a new life, right here...I’ve been wondering about it the last few days. Not like, keeping me up or anything, but it’s been on my mind.” Lance reclined on the edge of the roof as he leaned into his phone, closing his eyes as the wind caressed his face. _It’s peaceful up here_ , he thinks, and a part of him wished he didn’t have to climb down.

“You certainly can. With everything you’ve sold to your buyers, I’ll bet you have plenty stashed away. I don’t think you’d be happy, though.”

“I don’t know,” Lance mutters, drawing a knee up to his chest. He stared at the vibrant colors of the sunset, watching the first few stars peek out in the top of the sky, he allowed his mind to wander. And it wandered down to the street, to where a tall man with a shock of white hair was meeting his partner, whose arms were crossed in agitation. Lance allowed a small smirk to grow across his face, watching them interact from his perch.

“I think I’d be pretty happy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And hopefully, we'll be back to a more normal posting schedule. Thank you all for reading as always, and don't forget to leave comments about things you liked! I need them like air. :3


	4. In Which a Hound is Given Much to Consider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro considers his options, Keith is forced to make decisions, and Allura is given a rude surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you all for your patience with me and this fic, your comments and love have definitely been a huge motivator for me! I'm really proud of this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

The door to the main offices squeaked gently as Shiro walked in. He stopped to consider the hinges as he flicked the office lights on, wondering if Allura would ever get anyone in to actually fix the things. _Probably not_ , he mused, _she has enough on her plate. Maybe Coran can get it done?_

He draped his jacket over the coat tree by the door, grateful for the heavily insulated walls that prevented the increasingly cold winds from infiltrating the building. It was one of the few luxuries the police precinct had, and he said a quick grateful prayer for it everyday. Even as early as it was, with the morning sun still hidden behind the skyline of the city, the chill was completely absent from the office.

Shiro allowed himself a sigh as he made his way to his desk. His early arrival was one luxury he saved for himself, though he doubted many others would see it the same way. But for him, to be able to remove the metaphorical mask of the cool and collected detective was nothing less than a luxury, and there was no better way to do that than to be alone in the office.

He laid his briefcase on his desk, taking a quick glance at the empty desks around him. He smiled fondly at the organized chaos of Keith’s desk, a haphazard mess to the untrained eye though its clutter never seemed to deter him. Shiro had wondered on more than one occasion if he left his desk like that to explicitly annoy Allura. He chuckled at the thought as he opened his case, removing the papers that he’d brought home last night to work on. 

He paused when his eyes fell on a small yellow notepad, covered in wholly illegible scribblings. He removed it carefully, laying it on his desk. Lance had left it at the coffee shop yesterday, likely as a result of their distraction, which Shiro still found himself flushing slightly over. He’d taken it with him with the intent of catching up to Lance and returning it, but the boy had been nowhere to be found on the street.

Shiro shook his head, catching himself mentally referring to Lance as a ‘boy’. He’d quite clearly proven that he was anything but. Shiro had gone to bed last night fantasizing about Lance’s lips on his own, Lance’s hands resting on his shoulders, laying flat on his chest, gripping his hair as he-

Shiro shook his head again, much harder this time to clear it of those thoughts. Those were certainly not appropriate for work, and he knew that they showed on his face as clear as day. Sitting down a bit harder than was strictly necessary, he pulled out a few files that were the beginning of a full psychological profile of Blue. Now that he and Keith had actually interacted with him, they had much more to go on in terms of behavioral analysis, which had always been one of Shiro’s specialties in investigative work. He started leafing through a few essays he’d downloaded from a local university, done on the most recent models of criminal profiling.

But his eyes kept darting back to the notepad. He couldn’t help himself as he pulled it out of his case and dropped it on his desk, scanning the scribbles critically. By his reckoning, he had another twenty minutes before anyone else got into the office, so he had enough time to satisfy his curiosity with Lance’s notepad. 

He flipped through the pages of it, noting that the scribbles were different on each page. They tripped and flowed around the paper, looking for all the world like Lance had been about to draw, and then aborted his attempts halfway through the first line. But something was off about it that caught Shiro’s eye. They were far too organized, too collected to be just random doodlings. Taking a pencil, he started connecting strings of symbols that were distinct from each other, noting patterns as they wound their complicated paths through the paper. They disregarded the lined structure of the pages, moving in odd flowing shapes and currents that resembled aimless rivers more than anything. 

He hadn’t realized how long he’d been staring at it until the door squeaked open, causing him to jump in his seat. He looked up to see Allura stepping through the door with an eyebrow raised at his reaction.

“Good morning, Shirogane,” she said, breezing past his desk. He tensed involuntarily at the extra two syllables of his full name, a clear sign that Allura was upset about something. “I expect to see you in my office at eleven o’clock, there are things that we need to discuss.” Her tone was curiously clipped, and when he looked at her more closely he noticed a subtle set to her jaw that hinted at a greater worry.

He nodded to her, trying to inconspicuously hide the notepad under one of the essays. A slight smirk on her face told him that he’d failed at that. She kept walking regardless, entering her office without another word. Shiro’s brows furrowed as he watched her go. Normally she’d stop for some kind of small talk, so this behavior was troubling. _No point worrying_ , he thought, _I’ll figure it out soon enough._

He waved to Shay as she walked in, earning a cheery grin in response as she took her seat at her desk and began sorting the papers that had been left on it. He found himself remarkably fond of the new secretary, though her brother had been less than pleasant on the few occasions that he’d come to pick her up from work. He watched her work for a few seconds more before placing his attention back at his own work. 

He placed the notepad in one of his drawers as more people filed in through the doors. He’d apparently wasted his quiet morning time, though he couldn’t bring himself to regret the time spent on the notepad. He was regretfully drawn away from the essays that he still hadn’t read when two other officers pulled him into a discussion. He thought at first that it was about some television show, but it ended up concerning a new botanical garden that had opened up downtown, supposedly as part of some initiative to beautify the city. Shiro wouldn’t ordinarily have much interest in that, but Lance would probably love it. Maybe he could get some time off this weekend and surprise Lance with a trip…

He was knocked out of his thoughts when Keith pushed past him on his way to his desk. Shiro realized that he must been quite out of it to have not noticed Keith until they literally collided with each other. He turned to watch Keith move to his desk, not missing the specific set of his shoulders, the stubborn clench to his jaw, and the way his hands are balled into fists that all speak to a continuation of yesterday’s bad mood. Shiro gave a small sigh as he considered confrontation, unsure of how he’d approach that particular minefield. Keith had been on edge ever since Lance’s proposition, and Shiro wasn’t sure how to tell him that it really didn’t sound that bad.

He had made the decision to wait until after work the day was over to talk to Keith about it. That way, the emotions involved wouldn’t affect their performance, they’d be able to focus, and hopefully the day would help dull the edge of Keith’s tension. By ten o’clock this resolve had faded to a quiet suggestion in the back of Shiro’s mind. 

An irritable twitch had become present in Shiro’s eye as he heard Keith snap at someone for what felt like the hundredth time that day. There was no amount of frustration with his own private life that justified yelling at Shay, and it was when Shiro saw their secretary sprint away from Keith’s desk that he knew he had to do something. And when dealing with Keith, the direct approach was almost always the best approach.

Shiro tapped a sheaf of papers on the hard wood of his desk to arrange them before standing up. He quickly walked over to Keith’s desk, placing his biological hand in a firm grasp on Keith’s shoulder. He saw his partner open his mouth to say something, and decided to cut off any momentum.

“Hey, don’t you think it’s much too nice a morning to stay cooped up indoors? What say we go outside and get some coffee and stretch our legs.” That was a blatant lie; the weather outside is gray and wet with a drizzle that was threatening to become a storm, and the disparity had Keith baffled, judging by his face. Shiro took the opportunity and grabbed Keith’s arm, hauling him to his feet and marching him out the door before any protests could be voiced. He belatedly remembered to reach back into the office to grab his and Keith’s jackets, throwing them on quickly.

Keith’s struggling was halfhearted at best as Shiro dragged him out the door, only releasing his iron grip once they were both on the sidewalk. Keith crossed his arms as soon as he was able, sullenly glaring at the pavement like a child caught in a misdeed. _Which_ , Shiro thought, _isn’t wholly incorrect._ Shiro considered him for a moment before walking down the street, glancing back to see Keith heaving a tremendous sigh before catching up with him.

The air outside was damp and cold, causing Shiro to shiver as he wrapped his jacket tighter around himself. Even the thick wool wasn’t quite enough to keep the bitter chill away as the wind bit at every inch of exposed skin it could reach. He reached up to tie his scarf before seeing Keith cover his face with gloved hands. He frowned briefly in concern before removing the scarf and looping it around his partner’s neck, raising his collar to protect his own neck while pointedly looking away from Keith’s surprised and embarrassed reaction.

They walked for another solid minute in silence before Keith finally broke it. “Alright, you got me out here, what did you wanna talk about?” His voice was flat and dull, causing Shiro to remember that Keith’s anger wasn’t really anger. The expression on Shiro’s face softened significantly as he redirected their path, Keith’s brow furrowing in confusion as he followed.

“I wanted to talk about us, and also...about Lance,” Shiro said, keeping his gaze determinedly ahead. He stopped when he heard footsteps moving away, and turned around to see Keith power-walking in the opposite direction. Shiro sighed before giving chase, his longer legs easily catching up to Keith’s shorter stride. One hand firmly on Keith’s bicep to prevent further escape attempts, he led them back down the street.

“You can’t keep running away from this, Keith,” Shiro said. Keith just groaned loudly, but his eyes were downcast and his shoulders were still hunched. Shiro gave himself a moment to let go of his exasperation, softening his voice before he continued. “Lance made a big leap, telling us how he feels the way he did. Ignoring him isn’t fair to either of you.”

Keith wrenched his arm out of Shiro’s grip, but thankfully didn’t retreat again. “This is why you dragged me out of the office? So you could corner me and talk about my _feelings_?” Keith’s voice was full of forced venom, and Shiro was determined to resist being shaken off.

Shiro crossed his arms, fighting back another sigh. “I’d planned to wait until after our work day was over, but that wasn’t an option with you snapping at everyone in the office.” Keith at least had the decency to look ashamed at that, though his jaw was still set defiantly. “I don’t know what it is that you think you’re accomplishing by acting like this, but unless it’s to destroy every ounce of respect you’ve earned in the office, it’s not working.”

Keith’s eyes whipped up to meet Shiro’s, flashing in anger before it died out just as quickly. “It’s not...I don’t know what I’m doing. I didn’t expect that to happen last night, and it’s got me all messed up, Shiro.” Keith started walking down the street again, Shiro falling in step next to him. “What Lance said yesterday...It’s just, how am I supposed to take that? How am I supposed to look at the way he’s treated me this whole time, and think that he’s treated you the same way, and that we’re anything more than just...just toys to him? And then I start thinking about how he’s thought of me like that the whole time, and I start to get angry, and I…” He trailed off, his fist clenched and trembling at his side.

“Keith,” Shiro said, torn between reaching out reassuringly and slapping his partner in the face. “I don’t think that Lance views either of us as toys. If he did, do you think he’d have been flirting with us as much as he has for the past nine months? That’s an awfully long time to spend on toys, don’t you think?” Shiro waited a second for Keith to respond, but turned to notice his partner looking far more thoughtful than he’d expected. 

As they reached a small green space that passed for a park in downtown, Shiro sat at a bench and waved for Keith to join him. They sat in comfortable silence, both considering their thoughts as Shiro watched the people go by and Keith stared intently at his own feet. Observing the wildly varied passerby helped Shiro collect himself. A young man rushed somewhere as he spoke hurriedly on the phone. A woman with four ponytails, a curious hairstyle, rolled a large piece of paper in her hands as she blended into the crowd. An older woman stood by one of the trees, gently passing her hand over the rough bark as she hummed a tune that Shiro couldn’t quite make out.

But none of the sights there kept his attention as Keith did. Lance’s words from yesterday rang in his mind: _I can’t imagine there isn’t at least a little bit of attraction between you two._ He’d never allowed himself to consider Keith in that way, given the nature of their relationship as partnered detectives, and his own status as the older, more experienced, and higher ranked of the pair. He’d decided for the both of them that any kind of romantic entanglement would be a bad idea. For the two years that they’d been partners, he’d boxed away all the potential for those feelings, ignoring the way Keith had looked at him with something more than admiration in his eyes, ignoring the way his own skin would buzz with electricity when Keith laid a hand on his shoulder. 

As he looked at Keith now, sitting on the park bench and looking thoroughly miserable, he couldn’t help but feel that Lance had been onto something. But he needed to take this one step at a time, and he needed to be very careful about how he did that. Mostly, he was afraid that once he opened these floodgates, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. 

“What are your feelings on Lance?” Shiro was shocked to hear Keith break the silence first, jerking upright in the bench. Keith’s eyes were darting up to glance at Shiro, then back down at his feet as though he was ashamed to meet Shiro’s stare.

Shiro put a hand on his chin, considering his response carefully. “I think that he’s a good person. He’s never failed to make me laugh, and watching him interact with his family is amazing.”

Keith shook his head. “No, I mean what are your...argh, I hate this. I want to know if you like him.” Keith looked away, but not before Shiro could catch a glance of a radiant blush painting his face.

“I hadn’t pegged you for the jealous type,” Shiro teased, keeping his voice quiet. 

Keith’s eyes widened with surprise and embarrassed anger, and Shiro couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him. He only got louder as Keith whipped around to glare at him, laughing harder as he attempted to choke out apologies in between gasps. 

It took Shiro a solid minute to recollect himself, and he was still gasping breathlessly when he looked back at Keith. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made fun, but your face was just…” He took another deep breath to keep from lapsing back into laughter, gratified to see Keith fighting to keep a smile off of his own face.

Shiro’s smile faded when Keith’s silence continued. “I didn’t answer your question though, did I?” Keith shook his head, and Shiro’s expression sobered. “I do like Lance. A lot. Maybe, honestly, a little more than I should, but I can’t say that I regret it. His energy, his excitement, they bring something out of me. And I think they bring something out of you, too.” Keith stiffened, but Shiro pressed on. “I know that Lance can be difficult to take seriously, but I think that he’s taking us seriously. What he said to us yesterday wasn’t a joke. Even if it started as one, I think he’s way too committed now.”

“But why...why both of us? What, are either of us not enough for him?” There was an obvious note of bitter anger in Keith’s tone that Shiro recognized instantly. “It seems complicated, and messy, and...damn, why can’t this just be easy?” Keith groaned and put his head in his hands, and Shiro couldn’t help a small chuckle.

“This kind of thing is never easy, Keith,” he said gently, leaning back on the bench. “Even if it was just you and him, or me and him, or...or something else, it would still be messy and complicated. That’s just...what happens.”

Keith lifted his head to stare at Shiro, his eyes narrowed. “So you’re okay with this? With the idea of, of all three of us trying to do whatever this is?” 

“I’m open to the possibilities,” Shiro said, his voice level. “I’d like to see what could come of it. Does the idea make you uncomfortable?”

“No! It’s just, I’m not…” Keith trailed off, and Shiro could see annoyance seep into his expression and tone. He could understand why; it was much easier to be annoyed with the situation than to examine your feelings about it. It was an emotional trap that was Keith’s frequent downfall, and Shiro would be damned if he let it keep Keith from being happy.

“I think you need to talk to Lance, and get this sorted out. I don’t care if you decide to try it or not, but you can’t leave this hanging between you two. You’ve known him for longer than I have, and I don’t want this to drive a wedge in between the two of you. But the only way to avoid that is for the two of you to talk it out.” Shiro turned in his seat to face Keith completely, trying to show beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was serious about this.

Keith looked up at him with a face that warred between irritation and fear. “I don’t...I don’t want to lose him,” he said at length, looking back down at his hands. That fear was one that Shiro remembered far too clearly, had experienced all too recently. One of his hands found its way down to Keith’s knee, eliciting a small shock of surprise when Keith didn’t jerk away from the touch.

“Then go talk to him. If you are attracted to him, and want to try what Lance proposed, then we will. Or, if you don’t, and you want Lance to yourself, I’ll respect that, and I’ll back off.” He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but judging by the look on Keith’s face he’d failed miserably. “But whatever you decide, don’t keep Lance in the dark. Neither of you deserve that.”

Something he said seemed to have worked, because Keith nodded with a resolute set to his jaw. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll do that. I’ll...go to the shop after work? Do you know if…” He trailed off, thoughtful as he considered his plan of attack. 

Shiro couldn’t help an affectionate laugh, though it earned him another glare from Keith. “Go right now. I’ll cover for you, don’t worry. Just make sure that you’re back before,” he checked his watch quickly, “one-thirty. I can keep Allura busy until then.” Shiro stood up then, hooking his prosthetic hand under Keith’s arm and hoisting him up as well. “Don’t stand around here gaping, go get your man.”

With a nod and a smile that was small and genuine, Keith took off through the milling crowd. Shiro let himself watch for another minute, trying to quiet his own racing thoughts before he began the walk to the police station.

But his thoughts didn’t seem to much want to be quiet. Would he really let Keith have Lance, if that was what he wanted? Lance had expressed interest in both of them, but would he decide to take just Keith, if that was the condition? _Would I be content just watching the two of them?_ Shiro shook his head, both to clear his head and vigorously deny that statement. He knew that he wouldn’t be happy standing on the sidelines, but he also knew that he had a responsibility, as the oldest of their newly forming group, to be willing to compromise. _To deny myself for their happiness, if necessary._

He stared down at his hands, one responsive and real, the other unmoving and plastic. He wondered if that would factor into Lance’s decision. It certainly seemed to be a non-issue yesterday, but it seemed just as likely to Shiro’s increasingly emotional mind that Lance could have just forgotten about it. He couldn’t fault Lance for wanting someone whole, which was certainly something Shiro couldn’t give him. 

_Okay, but explain then why Lance was as eager as he was to have you yesterday_ , a hopeful and traitorous part of his brain reminded him. _He certainly wasn’t hesitant, given the way he was climbing into your lap like he was going to screw your brains out in public._ The thought made Shiro’s cheeks burn despite the chilling wind, and he regretted giving Keith his scarf as he lifted his collar a bit higher.

He decided that he’d have faith for the time being. Faith that Keith would be careful, that Lance would stay true to his word, and that both of them would come to a good conclusion. He’d have faith in them until they showed him otherwise, which was hardly something he expected either to do.

It wasn’t until he was at the door of the precinct that he even noticed how long he’d been walking. He allowed a wry smirk to spread across his face as he walked in, dropping it when he noticed a rather unusual air about the place.

Allura turned away from the two obnoxiously tall men that were holding her attention, her stance relaxing in minute details that Shiro only barely picked up. “Ah, Captain Shirogane. How good of you to return.” There was a note of cold disdain in her voice, and Shiro resisted the urge to check his watch. He knew that it wasn’t later than ten forty-five, which meant that this had been unexpected. Odds were good that the disdain wasn’t directed at him, then.

He walked up to the three after hanging his coat, regarding their newcomers professionally as Allura introduced them. “Captain Shirogane, this is First Deputy Superintendent Sendak, and Captain Haxus. They’ve come to...ah, I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t believe that we’ve actually gotten to your specific purpose here.” Shiro winced inwardly at Allura’s chilling tone. As the city’s Chief of Police she had a great deal of clout, but he could see that something was happening over her head.

The Deputy seemed to take it in stride, his eyes sweeping over to take in Shiro’s appearance. Shiro barely contained a startled flinch at the odd yellow tint of Sendak’s eyes. “Captain,” the man said, nodding as he looked down at Shiro. Standing a little above six feet, Shiro wasn’t used to looking up at people. He found Sendak’s stature discomfiting, but maintained his professional stance while holding out a hand for Sendak to shake.

A unnerving smirk spread across Sendak’s face as he gripped Shiro’s hand, giving no notice that Shiro had extended his left hand instead of his right. There was a moment of obvious attempted intimidation from both parties before they released, and Shiro turned to Haxus who simply offered a nod of acknowledgement. 

As Sendak turned back towards Allura, Shiro allowed himself a moment to examine the pair. Haxus was only a hair shorter than Sendak, and both of them were dressed in impeccable black suits, carefully tailored to their muscular forms. Haxus wore a silver tie, but Sendak had gone without, leaving the top button of shirt undone in a remarkably casual display. _Likely to show a level of disdain for us_ , Shiro thought. At both of their sides were the telltale bulges of gun holsters, and Shiro thought he could see the outline of a knife strapped to Haxus’ side.

The smile that crept along Sendak’s harsh features was anything but friendly. “We’ve been sent by the Superintendent to assist with your investigation, Chief Altea,” he said, his scorn barely concealed in Allura’s last name. “The Blue case has been weighing very heavily on his mind, and he believes that some fresh eyes might help solve it a little faster. Particularly after the embarrassing debacle at the Guggenheim last week.” Sendak’s smirk grew into an arrogant grin and Shiro could practically see Allura bristle with indignation. He thought that maybe he should do something to stop this.

“I certainly see your point, Deputy Superintendent,” Allura said, her voice perfectly calm despite every sign Shiro could detect in her body language. “And I admit, you will certainly bring very fresh eyes to the investigation. After all, you’ve only been in the force for...no more than six months, I think?” Allura sounded perfectly inquisitive and innocent, but there was an edge of unmistakable steel in her eyes that gave Shiro chills. “I’m certain that we can accommodate you in whatever means you require. In fact, let me set you up with a desk right now! Coran, if you wouldn’t mind, please?”

The Assistant Chief bounded into action immediately, catching both Sendak and Haxus’ attention as he led them towards a pair of desks. The fact that they were as far away from Allura’s office as possible didn’t escape Shiro’s attention. He wondered if they kept those desks empty on purpose.

“You. My office, now.” Allura’s tone allowed no room for argument, dragging Shiro away while the two newcomers were occupied by Coran. Shiro knew first-hand just how distracting he could be, so they should be occupied for quite some time. The thought offered him little comfort as Allura closed the door behind them, relaxing once she was out of Sendak’s sight.

Allura fixed Shiro with a look that spoke a thousand words as she took a seat behind her desk, heaving a sigh that was somehow both heavy and silent. “Our meeting was supposed to be about those two, and preparing you for their arrival. I wasn’t expecting them until two-thirty today, and then they arrived solidly three hours early. I should have the Superintendent’s head for this…” She gripped the edge of her desk tightly in frustration, and Shiro could see the wood crack slightly under her hand.

“They’re aware that I’m not a member of the CPD, right?” Shiro said, sitting down in front of her. “You gave me an honorary title here for my stay, but I’m not under the authority of the Chicago Board, and neither is this investigation.” He chose his words carefully, but was feeling almost as annoyed as Allura looked.

“Technically yes, and technically no,” she said, releasing her grip and pulling a file out of her desk. She handed it to Shiro, who opened it immediately. “You’re not an officer here, not officially, but Sergeant Kogane is. Not only that, but when we accepted the offer to house your investigation, it became a joint venture of the CPD and your organization. As such, in certain ways, it is the jurisdiction of the Chicago Board. And one of those ways is that, as that file states, they are allowed to assign no more than two officers to serve as oversight and representatives of the Illinois Police Board.” Shiro’s eyes widened as he read what Allura said, and clasped her hands on her desk, searching for words. “I’m sorry, Shiro. There’s nothing I can do in this situation.”

A name on the file caught Shiro’s attention, and he placed it on the desk, pointing it out to Allura. “That wasn’t the Superintendent’s name when we came here, was it?” The name was written in angular cursive, shaped like each letter was almost a weapon.

Allura took it, her lips pursing. “No, it wasn’t. This is someone who was appointed by the Mayor early this year. It was actually rather soon after you came on. Why, is the name familiar?”

“I...maybe? I’m not sure, it just struck me as odd. Maybe because it sounds similar to those of our new representatives.” Shiro tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice, and mostly succeeded. He hated dealing with superior interference, which was a large part of why he’d joined this agency.

Allura caught the sentiment anyway, giving a rueful smile. “That’s likely because it is. Apparently they’re foreign, though I couldn’t tell you where they’re from. Sendak has followed this man for quite some time, though.” She leaned forward, adopting a posture that Shiro knew meant business. “I’m going to have to ask you to play nice with them, Takashi. Until such a time as I know what game the Superintendent is planning, we’re going to have to be good with his little spies.”

Taken aback by both the use of his first name and the blatant honesty in her words, Shiro could only nod. Allura seemed pleased by it, and leaned back in her chair, seeming to shed a weight from her shoulders. “How many are you now, Shiro? Of the Paladins, I mean.”

“Just two at the moment, ma’am. Me and one other, here in the city now. You’ll understand that I can’t disclose their name.”

“Is it...are you doing well? I just don’t…” she trailed off, seeming to lose her train of thought.

“You don’t want your father’s memory to be sullied?” Shiro suggested, a wry smile on his face. Allura looked up, abashed, and seemed far more the childhood friend that he remembered her as than the police chief she had become.

“No, it’s not that! I know that above all else, you’ll honor him. But...the Paladins are all I have left of him now. And I know that it’s shameful of me to say that, given that I spurned the chance to join them myself in favor of this,” she gestured around her office, the movement both boastful and self-deprecating, “but I want to know that it’s going well. That your investigations are bearing fruit. And that you’re not thinking of poaching my best young detective.” A playful tone returned to her voice as she spoke, leaning forward as if nudging Shiro with her voice. 

He gave a genuine grin in return. “The whole Blue case has been a rather major setback, but we’ve made more headway than anyone before us, so I’m hopeful. As for the poaching, I won’t lie; I’d love to have Keith join our team. But I understand that your workload here is heavy, and you need the hands you can get. But if I were to get your blessing…” he let the sentence fade, still grinning at Allura in a friendly battle of wills.

“Hmm, we’ll see about that. I’d love to see the Paladins become more prominent, but it would be a tragedy to lose Kogane.” She paused, considering. “Well, maybe not a _tragedy_ , per se. It would be nice to not have to deal with his crap every day, but I’d certainly miss his efficiency. But if you were to give him a better offer than what I’m paying him, I’m not sure that I could keep him…”

Shiro winced. The prolonged nature of the Blue case had been straining the Paladin Agency’s finances, even with the minor fortune that Alfor had left behind. Allura started laughing at his response, and it wasn’t long before Shiro joined in as well.

Gathering his composure, Shiro stood up and saluted to Allura. “I should probably get back to work, then. If I’m going to lure Keith away, I have a lot to take care of. By your leave, ma’am.” Shiro smiled as Allura nodded, leaving the office feeling somewhat lighter than he’d entered it.

It had been a long time since he’d discussed the Paladins with anyone, least of all Allura. Her decision to join the police force had been a contentious one, and the ensuing fight was one that had driven a severe wedge through their friendship for years. He was glad to see that it was finally being healed.

All pensive thoughts were driven from his mind when Shay squealed, announcing Keith as he walked through the front door. He looked absolutely furious, but his intimidating presence was severely undermined by the fact that his hair was pulled back into three french braids, each of which sported a variety of colorful flowers. He glared at Shay as she continued to coo at him, and Shiro couldn’t help a bark of surprised laughter at the sight, earning him Keith’s scorn.

“Shut the hell up and get these out, I have no idea how to undo them,” Keith muttered as he made his way through the desks, pointedly ignoring the muffled laughter around him. 

“Did...did Lance do that?” Shiro asked, only barely containing his own laughter as he started unwinding Keith’s hair, trying to remember what Allura had taught him nearly a decade ago.

“No, apparently he’s out of town,” Keith said, sullen. Shiro frowned behind him as he finished undoing the first braid. “Three of his sisters were home, though, and Ms. Sanchez insisted that I could either buy three bouquets, or let her daughters braid my hair. I chose to pay with my dignity rather than my wallet.” 

Shiro chuckled at the story, imagining the three Sanchez girls doting over Keith as they braided his thick mullet. He hoped that they took pictures, or else Lance would be miserable at the thought of missing it. He briefly considered taking a picture himself, but decided that he’d rather not have Keith tear his throat out today.

“You’ll get him next time, Keith. For now, we have other things to worry about.” Shiro’s voice lowered in volume as he undid the second braid, gently tilting Keith’s head to the side. The movement both brought the third braid within reach, and pointed Keith at their new arrivals.

Shiro could almost feel Keith’s eyes narrow. “Who are they? They’re well dressed, and I recall seeing their jackets at the door.” 

“Higher ups in the CPD,” Shiro whispered. “Here to ‘help’ us with the Blue case.” Shiro felt Keith tense up and quickly kept talking. “Allura said we can’t do anything about them yet, so just keep your cool and deal with them. They’re not an issue yet, just observers. We’ll keep doing what we’re doing, and hopefully Allura can get rid of them.”

Keith’s shoulders didn’t relax even as Shiro finished the last braid. He leaned against Shiro’s desk, ostensibly talking to Shiro though his focus was on Sendak. “As long as they don’t interfere, I’m fine.”

“And even if they do interfere, we’ll live with it. We’ve gotten through worse.” Shiro a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder, and he could feel the tension seep out as Keith relaxed. “Just keep your cool, cowboy. We have a thief to catch, remember?”

Keith sucked in a quick breath, staring at Shiro. “Cowboy?” When Shiro just looked quizzically at him, he ducked his head, failing to restrain a blush that crept across his face. “That’s...something Lance calls me. I didn’t expect to hear it from you.”

That surprised Shiro, but he supposed that there was much shared between Lance and Keith that he didn’t know about. And in the same vein he had things shared with Lance that Keith didn’t know about. It occurred to him, with somewhat more force than he’d expected, that he wanted Keith to be a part of what he shared with Lance.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Keith beat him to it. “I thought about it. About...what Lance said, and what you were saying, and I think...both of you are important to me.” Shiro shut his mouth, willing to hear Keith out. He tried to quash the burgeoning hope that he felt fluttering in his chest. “I don’t know if I feel the same way about both of you, but...I’d like to talk about it.”

“That’s honestly all we’re asking for,” Shiro said, squeezing Keith’s shoulder affectionately. “Thank you for giving it a chance. But for right now, we’re both still at work, and maybe we should get back to it. We have a thief to catch, right?” Keith nodded, his smile turning down into his determined scowl as he went back to his desk. Shiro grinned as he went, sitting back down at his own desk. He pulled out Blue’s file, so much larger than any he’d handled before, and his gaze slid over Lance’s notepad. His fingers itched to pull it out as well, but he could handle that later. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Shay’s voice. “Captain Shirogane! Um, I have, uh, Pidge on your line? She says that she needs to speak with you, something about Blue.”

Shiro’s eyes widened as he picked up his phone’s receiver, immediately hearing Pidge’s distorted voice on the line. “Hello again, Detective. I hear that Australia is simply lovely this time of year.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. This was a little long, but I don't regret any of it. Hopefully the next one should be out soon(ish), and next up, we get one from Blue's perspective! Yes, it is different from Lance's. :3
> 
> In other news, if I were to write a series of offshoot fics of this, about things that might have happened after certain events, would y'all be interested? Like, for instance, if Blue hadn't stopped getting handsy with Keith in the museum, or if Lance and Shiro hadn't been interrupted in the cafe. Let me know, and you might see some more E-rated fics in the future!
> 
> Thank you all for reading, and I'll see you next chapter!


	5. In Which a Fox Is In Over His Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heist is pulled successfully, a merry chase is had, and things start to go a little wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's been almost a month since I last updated this, and I apologize (which I feel I'm doing a lot of lately :3). However, this is a slightly longer chapter than before, and is our first look through Blue's eyes, so I hope y'all will forgive me! 
> 
> A quick note, y'all: I haven't gone through and replied to a comment in a while, but I do read each and every one, and damned if they don't make my day every single time. Y'all are absolutely amazing, and I love getting your feedback on these stories. And I also love all of you!

A step that coiled into a leap carried him over the gap between roofs as the warm evening air whipped past him. He couldn’t feel it through his mask, but he could hear it rush by him in a cacophony. The notes of the rushing air brought information to him, sounds from busy streets below. He focused on the pathway in front of him to block them out, cognizant of his inability to split his focus while freerunning. A nasty spill he’d taken several years ago had taught him that lesson painfully, and he was in no hurry to repeat it.

He felt a smirk grow on his face as he heard yelling behind him. He had hoped that they could keep up, and they weren’t disappointing him. Though they lacked his agility, they had determination in spades. They also seemed to have a significant edge in stamina, as their routes were far more winding than his, and they were still keeping good pace.

Shiro made it within sight first. Tall, muscular, skilled; Blue grinned behind his mask when he saw that the detective had lost his jacket at some point during the chase. Shed to reduce excess weight? Removed to alleviate body heat? Regardless, it offered an excellent view of a welcome distraction in the shape of Shiro’s pectorals as they strained against the fabric of the shirt. He’d have to remember to thank whoever dressed investigators for their work. 

Shiro came to a stop, glaring at Blue across the rooftops. Blue watched him unclasp a badge from his side, and rolled his entire head in exasperation. Was Shiro really about to read him his rights? On a rooftop in Sydney? He was about to make a sarcastic remark when a blur of movement caught his attention. Oh, that was clever.

Keith lunged in from his right, his open hand passing mere inches from Blue’s mask. So that was their game. He could see Shiro moving out of the corner of his eye, an attempt to flank. Too slow, too predictable, far too obvious. He dropped under Keith’s next attempt to grab him, sweeping his leg out to catch the detective under the knee and lay him on his back. As Keith caught his breath, Blue reached into his belt to steal the baton he knew was there, yanking it out and extending it in the same fluid motion in which he struck out at Shiro. He diverted his strike at the last second to hit Shiro’s shoulder rather than his solar plexus. He wanted this chase to continue a bit longer, after all, he hadn’t been chased properly in years.

Shiro staggered from the hit as Blue took a step back, tossing the baton behind him where he knew Keith’s stomach would be. A very satisfying “Oof” sounded behind him as Keith’s breath forcibly evacuated his lungs, and Blue grinned behind the mask. He skipped slightly as he took off running again, building momentum as he saw Shiro chasing after him. His long coat billowed dramatically in the wind as he vaulted over air conditioning units, stretching up to grab one piece of a series of piping that ran over the industrially designed roof to swing himself further ahead. Landing in a smooth roll, he chanced a glance backwards.

Keith and Shiro had gone around the parkour playground rather than traverse it the way Blue had. Inefficient. Though they’d split up, and if Blue didn’t get moving again they’d surround him easily. Smart. He felt a thrill run through his body as he took off running again, feeling the flow move through him as he vaulted, slid, and swung through the Australian night.

He’d left dozens of hints as to where in the museum he’d be, but he was still glad that they’d taken the bait. Doors left ajar, security systems half-deactivated, practically a trail of candy left out for inquisitive children. A confrontation in the main exhibit hall that hadn’t gone quite as well as Blue would have liked. Not dramatic enough, really. The detectives had gone off-script, and it had thrown off the whole night.

But this, the chase. The chase was perfect. The two of them were playing their parts so well, were giving him exactly what he wanted. Not to mention that it was also giving Rolo and Nyma plenty of time to empty the actual museum, but that hadn’t really been Blue’s aim. The others were far more interested in the money, and while he appreciated having a hefty sum to retire on, what he was really after was this.

The thrill of being chased through the night. Watching Keith come closer, closer, then sliding under his grasp and reaching out to brush his face, an action that also sent a very nasty shock of electricity through his face. It made him spasm in a surprisingly cute way, and hopefully didn’t hurt him too terribly. If Keith was anything, he was tough, so Blue wasn’t tremendously worried. He also couldn’t be, because he couldn’t split his focus from dodging Shiro, avoiding a quick jab to his stomach that would have laid him out, ducking beneath a kick that soared over his head that flowed beautifully into a knifehand, if you could call it that, from his prosthetic hand that narrowly missed Blue’s shoulder.

Blue danced away, laughing as he stepped to the edge of the building. Shiro froze, no doubt eyeing the fifteen-foot gap between the lip of this building and the next. “What’s the matter, Mr. Big Hound? Scared that I’ll fall over the ledge and hurt myself? I suppose I can only hope that you care for me that much.” He spoke wistfully, the back of his hand dramatically over his forehead as he leaned back and watched Shiro’s sharp intake of breath.

“Criminal or no, I don’t want you to fall six stories. No one deserves to go out like that. So why don’t you step away from the ledge, okay?” Shiro had his hands in front of him, and Blue was struck briefly by the fact that yes, he actually meant what he was saying. The last detective who’d chased him this far had practically begged him to jump. This was a welcome change.

Blue glanced from Shiro to Keith, who was massaging his face and glaring at Blue. Adorable. But his attention was caught by a voice in his ear, through the radio that Pidge had installed. “Hey Blue, we’re all set up in here. Are you meeting us?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Blue said, answering both questions simultaneously. “I’m having plenty of fun right here. You two are free to move, if you wish.” He could hear Rolo’s exasperated sigh on the radio line, and if he was being perfectly honest with himself, riling up Rolo and Nyma was a solid thirty percent of why he was doing this.

“What’s the point of any of this?” Keith demanded, taking a step forward. Blue dangled a foot over the ledge and Shiro stopped his partner from moving further forward. The irony of taking himself hostage did not escape Blue. “You didn’t get any of the art, we’re running you all over the city, and you’re only barely evading capture! I don’t get it.”

He looked so confused and lost that Blue started laughing. “Of course you don’t get it, Little Hound. That’s because you’re not playing this game. You’re being played with, you see.” Keith bristled at that, and it warmed Blue’s heart. “And, are you sure that I didn’t get any of the art? Why don’t you call up the beat cops watching the scene, and make sure?”

Shiro’s brow furrowed, and he started muttering frantically into his headpiece, gesturing for Keith to keep an eye on Blue. Keith crossed his arms and stared daggers at the thief, who was content to enjoy the attention.

“A fascinating stalemate, isn’t it?” Blue said, sure that his smile was audible in his words. It was too big not to be. “You can’t come after me because I’ll fling myself from this roof, and I can’t go anywhere because I need to be close enough to fling myself from this roof. So what say we get to know each other, Mr. Little Hound?”

Keith twitched in annoyance. “I have no interest in getting to know a thief. And stop calling me that, it’s degrading.”

“Well, I hardly call you that to be complimentary. Did you like the flowers I sent you, Little Hound?”

“No, they were awful. Did you buy them yourself?” An idea seemed to strike Keith at that moment, and he growled at Blue. “Did you do anything to Lance?” 

Well, that was unexpected. Judging by his threatening posture, he was honestly angry at the thought of Lance being hurt by Blue. Fascinating. “Lance?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “Was that the cute florist? Tall, dark skin, short brown hair, looks just a little dopey all the time?” He gestured with his hand to indicate the height, and intentionally played up the self-mockery. Some self-aware part of him recognized that he was fishing for compliments, but he didn’t really care.

“Lance is not dopey!” And Keith hardly disappointed. “He’s...kind, and generous, and a little goofy, and he doesn’t deserve to have a thief talk crap about him! You’re not half the man Lance is!”

That was adorable, and hilariously inaccurate. Blue cocked his head inquisitively. “You seem very fond of him. Does my precious Little Hound have a crush?”

“Who I love is no business of yours,” Keith growled. His hands were balled into fists and he took a step threateningly towards Blue, who was suddenly unable to react.

Who he...loved? Surely just a turn of phrase, but even so it was nearly enough to catapult Lance out of Blue’s headspace. He was immensely grateful for the mask that covered his face, as it also obscured the crimson blush that was creeping up to his ears now, having already conquered his face. With a deep breath, he drew back on years of emotional training to compartmentalize that for later study, because he couldn’t afford distractions now.

“What did you do?” Shiro said, walking back towards them. He was speaking to Blue, and thank God for that. Blue latched on to the welcome focal point, pulling himself away from Keith’s possible confession of actual love.

“What did I do? Why, my dear Big Hound, all I did was get chased around by a pair of handsome detectives. Surely that left me with no time for tomfoolery?” His voice was light, jovial, and dripping with mockery, and by the way Shiro was gripping his radio, it hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Shiro took a step forward, and Blue was somewhat disheartened when dangling a foot over the ledge didn’t stop him. “All the pieces in three different exhibits are gone. The security system is mangled, and two guards are dead. I’m going to ask you one more time, Blue: What did you do?”

This conversation was throwing him for far too many loops. Two guards, dead? That wasn’t right, they weren’t supposed to kill people. They were inconveniencing the elite and prestigious, there was no reason to reach down and hurt people who didn’t understand. But he couldn’t let any of that show. He had to stay in control, had to regain command of the situation, couldn’t let Shiro and Keith take over because then they’d take him down in a second.

He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching over his chest, but he could change its meaning. “A series of unfortunate circumstances, my dear Hounds,” he said, casting his hand through the air between them. It was a theatrical movement, designed to take their attention away from the slight tremor in his voice. “You see, in any great performance, there are always...accidents. And while this is more regrettable than most, it’s hardly-”

He cut off when Shiro dashed at him. The movement caught him off-guard, but he reacted instinctively as Shiro’s arm outstretched towards him. He dropped to the ground and lifted his legs to catch Shiro under the elbow in a scissor hold, gripping his torso tightly as he swung his body. In one smooth movement, he had Shiro dangling half-off the building, a sheer drop of at least sixty feet. He heard Keith cry out from the rooftop, and Shiro’s hand gripped frantically at Blue’s pants, desperate for any kind of purchase.

“L-let’s not do anything hasty, here,” Shiro said, fear evident in his voice. Blue hated hearing it, hated that they were driving him to this point, hated how out-of-control he felt.

“What’s the matter, Shirogane?” Blue intentionally purred the name, scrabbling for any sort of control. “Scared of heights?” He lowered Shiro just a hair, proud of his control over his legs. And to think he’d initially fought his sisters when they’d forced him to take ballet with them.

The look Shiro fixed him with was piercing. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me.”

Blue actually laughed at that, throwing his head back to catch a brief glimpse of Keith’s terrified face. “My dear Big Hound, I’m a thrill-seeker! What makes you think I wouldn’t welcome a fall like this?” He leaned in close as he spoke, seeing Shiro’s eyes widen with fear and realization. He used the brief moment of vulnerability to swing his legs again, flinging Shiro back onto safety of the roof. Shiro collided with Keith and landed in a heap, which almost distracted Blue from the effect of throwing Shiro in the first place.

Shiro was a heavy man, and throwing him had taken a great deal of force. So much so that without Shiro’s weight holding him down, Blue found himself dangling much further over the edge, pushed by the counter-momentum of the throw. As he slipped over the edge, he had just enough time to think, _Well, crap. How am I gonna make this look planned?_

He accomplished it with a brief jaunty wave as he vanished below the lip of the building. He heard cries of dismay from Keith and Shiro as he fell, but they were quickly swallowed up by rushing air as the ground came racing towards him. Lights blurred into streaks of color around him as the world seemed to slow to a crawl, and a grin broke out across his face.

This situation should not have been a happy one, he realized in a distant part of his brain. He was falling six stories, approximately sixty to seventy feet, so he had maybe a few seconds to save himself before he went two-dimensional against the street. The impending death, the need for quick thinking, the desperation of every move…

He felt so alive.

He grabbed the ends of his coat, allowing the treated fabric to catch the air like a parachute. It wasn’t much, but it slowed his fall by precious milliseconds. He glanced around, taking in possible escapes. It was an upscale apartment building, which meant large windows with little purchase. Balconies? Some, but set into the building, and therefore out of easy reach. With all the gadgets Pidge had put in his outfit, he would’ve thought there’d be a grappling hook. But no, Pidge had said, those are cliche and unnecessary, he grumbled internally as the fifth floor rushed by him.

Not much more time before his velocity would be too great to stop. _Time to improvise, then_ , he thought with no small amount of glee. Shucking off his jacket, noting the ease with which the leather slid off his body, he corded it around itself and threw it like a rope at the third floor balcony as it came level with him. The leather wrapped around the banister and caught on itself, the only thing it was designed to catch on, giving Blue a small break to his momentum. It wasn’t much before the hasty knot came undone, but every bit counted.

That was two breaks in his fall so far. With a third significant break, he’d be able to roll enough to absorb any significant damage from the landing and come up running. He just needed one last thing. His eyes lit up as they fell on exactly what he needed. He gave a brief mental apology to whoever had put up the decorations as he whipped the coat out again, catching on the heavy rope of decorative lights that adorned the passing balcony. He lifted his body on the jacket as his fall was quickly arrested, lowering himself with the impact to minimize the effects of physics on his body. Right as he felt the rope strain under the new weight it was suddenly supporting, Blue released his grip on the coat. 

His new momentum carried his slower and further forward, enabling him to latch on to the horizontal arm of a lamppost. Swinging his legs to maximize his velocity, Blue swung himself up and over, landing in a graceful crouch on top of the light. It bent slightly under his weight, but held, much to his satisfaction. He looked around the street, seeing the astonished faces of passerby who’d just seen him fall the whole way, and he offered another jaunty wave to them as he leapt off the light, rolling onto the ground and launching instantly to a run through the crowded streets of downtown Sydney.

One, two, three alleys back, far away from anywhere Keith and Shiro would look for him, and he was at the location of his pre-arranged stash. Let Keith and Shiro think that he’d ran them randomly through the city, it suited him just fine. He ducked into the side street and climbed half up a wall, detaching the camouflaged bundle from the bricks. A quick change, and one quick garbage can fire, and the dark jeans and tight shirt he’d worn as Blue were gone. His jacket was a tragic casualty, but he couldn’t very well go retrieve it from a second-story balcony at this point. The mask was hidden back in the dead drop stash, to be picked up at a later date.

As Blue walked out of the other side of the side street looking like Lance, he allowed himself a sigh of relief, quickly followed by one of exasperation. If Rolo and Nyma had actually killed someone, or several someones, they would have to have words. Unpleasant ones. He couldn’t allow recklessness to endanger his operations, or attract more significant attention. _Wouldn’t do to have a SWAT team after my ass_ , he thought to himself as he walked down the street, hands bunched in his jacket pockets. He felt naked walking around without his mask, but knew from experience that the feeling would soon fade. He just had to get out of the Blue headspace, and he’d be fine.

Until then, he was jumpy. Every sense was on high alert, and every sudden movement or loud noise was a possible threat. He’d long since learned to avoid reacting to these noises overtly, though his attention snapped wildly from stimulus to stimulus. He clutched his head as aches began to set in, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of stimulation. 

He felt himself slipping back into Blue, just to have a way to process all the information. It was only during the in-between stage that he got overwhelmed, and it would take too long to go fully back into Lance. As he went back to Blue the information instantly slotted into place, becoming logical chunks of data instead of meaningless stimuli. He instantly took in the three couples behind him laughing, the alley cat weaving between legs as it searched for dinner, the dark-haired detective running through the streets whose eyes flashed with recognition upon seeing Lance, and the way two street lights were flickering on and off in a way that would provide a good cover for an escape if need be.

_Wait, hold on._ Blue’s eyes widened with panic when he saw Keith barreling down the street, maneuvering his way through the crowd of people with remarkable ease. And he was making his way straight to Blue. _How did he find me this quickly? Doesn’t matter, escape!_ Blue turned on his heel and ran, weaving expertly through couples and groups before they even had time to register his presence.

“Lance, wait!” Keith’s voice rang out over the noise, too much noise, and Blue stopped dead. He knew? He’d found out who... _wait, I’m not in costume. I’m not...crap!_ Blue-no, Lance-stopped dead in the street, nearly knocking over a two year-old before he staggered to the side of walkway, leaning heavily across a building. There was too much happening, there was no reason for them to follow him here, he’d left too many clues in opposite directions, _why is he here, and where the hell is Shiro?_

He’d just had the presence of mind to muss himself up a little, running hands through his hair to corroborate the story he was rapidly constructing when Keith reached him, gloved hands gripping his forearms tightly. “Lance, there you are! Are you okay? You look awful, what happened to you? What are you even doing here?”

Keith was gripping him, holding him tightly _he was trapped couldn’t escape_ he shook his head forcefully both to clear his head of Blue and to answer Keith’s question. It wasn’t a lie; he definitely was anything but okay. He had to remind himself that Keith wasn’t capturing him, wasn’t bringing him in, and that the look in his eyes wasn’t anger or triumph but instead was worry. He needed something safe to say, something between Lance and Blue that wouldn’t seem out of place.

He twisted his mouth into a mockery of his usual smirk, feeling a tear run its way down his cheek. “You would not believe the day I’ve had, cowboy,” he said, his voice wavering just a little. The crying he felt coming on was in part due to actual emotional turmoil, but was mostly knowing how to push his own buttons to evoke reactions. _Thank you, childhood as a middle child in a big family._

Keith’s expression melted immediately from harsh concern to something soft and far too intimate for Blue to process. It brought on another wracking sob as Blue sought any escape, with Lance somewhere in the back of his mind trying to force his way to the front. The shift was happening too slowly, and every time it started the stimuli got too wild, and headaches threatened to split his skull open.

He was barely able to process when Keith wrapped him in his arms, as if trying to squeeze away his problems. He’d never be able to explain the sensation to anyone, but he instantly felt Blue melt away and leave Lance in his wake as he melted into Keith’s arms. The hug felt like something unpracticed, which Lance could absolutely believe, but there was so much emotion in Keith’s grip, such a strong desire to protect that Lance couldn’t stop the ensuing flood of tears.

Which was very unfortunate, supplied a logical part of Lance’s mind that sounded like a cross between Blue and Pidge. Lance was an ugly crier, and he was painfully aware of that fact, but he couldn’t make himself stop as he folded in Keith’s arms. He was grateful that Keith wasn’t asking anymore questions, seemingly content to hold him until he was done.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, shaking in Keith’s arms until he’d cried himself out, but when he came back to himself Shiro was standing behind Keith. And wasn’t that just the most embarrassing thing in the world, that he had just cried his eyes out in front of not only one person he was hopelessly heels over head for, but both of those people. They broke off whatever they were saying to each other when they realized he’d gone quiet, turning to face him with expressions of such obvious concern and affection on their faces that he almost teared up again.

“Do you think you’re okay now?” Keith’s voice was soft and gentle as he looked down at Lance, who realized that he’d slid down to the ground at some point. He nodded shakily, and Keith visibly relaxed. He sat on the ground heavily next to Lance, looking up at Shiro with a questioning expression. Lance followed his gaze, and saw an undeniable fondness on Shiro’s face. He was distracted from examining Shiro further when he felt Keith lean into him, burying his face in Lance’s shoulder and breathing gently. “I think we’ve all had a long night,” he said, the warm breath of his words fanning over Lance’s skin. His reaction must have been obvious, because Shiro started smirking down at him.

He crouched down next to them, his smirk softening slightly. “What say we all get off the street? I think we’re blocking traffic.” Lance looked up to see pedestrians giving them a wide berth on the sidewalk, and nodded up at Shiro. “Can you walk, Lance?”

Blushing furiously at the possibility of being carried, Lance nodded again. He looked to his side, seeing Keith’s face much closer to his own than he’d expected, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “Do you intend to get off so I can get up, cowboy?”

Keith’s eyes widened as if he just realized what he was doing, and he rushed to his feet fast enough to bang his head on a low windowsill near them. He glared at Lance and Shiro as they both chuckled, but still lowered a hand to help Lance to his feet. Lance accepted gratefully, but was thrown off-guard when Keith pulled him into another enveloping hug, holding him like he might break if Keith let go.

“I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re gonna tell us, okay? When you’re ready, I mean,” Keith said as he let Lance go, looking far more bashful than he sounded. 

“Yeah, I will. I promise.” Lance looked to Shiro, who’d been very quiet during the whole exchange, and saw him writing out an address on a piece of paper.

Thrusting it into Lance’s hands, Shiro fixed him with a piercing look that almost put Lance back in Blue’s mindset. “That’s the hotel we’re staying at here. Would you mind going there and waiting for us? We need to go report to the local police, but I’d like to make sure that you’re okay.”

Lance looked between the paper and Shiro, searching for any kind of sign of suspicion, deception, or ulterior motive. All he saw was a kind of stern concern, almost fatherly in a way that made Lance squirm uncomfortably. “Y-yeah, I can do that. I guess I’ll...wait for you two in the lobby, or something?” 

Keith groaned and gave Shiro a brief glare before pressing a keycard into Lance’s hand. “No, you don’t have to wait in the lobby. It’s room 513, just make yourself at home. We’re gonna hurry back, I promise. Call us if anything goes wrong, okay?” At Lance’s nod, Shiro gestured and the two of them walked away, though Keith kept shooting glances back at Lance. 

Sighing heavily to himself, Lance began walking towards the hotel. He considered pulling out his phone’s GPS for appearance’s sake, but no one was paying attention to him anymore. He knew the city like the back of his hand from his preparatory research, and the way to the hotel was already marking itself in Lance’s mental map. It was a fair distance, but he’d have time to think.

Which he desperately needed. Things had moved far too fast for his taste, and now he was stuck in an unfortunate situation where he needed a good story to tell Keith and Shiro about why he broke down in the middle of the street. He doubted that “my sensory training causes me to be easily overwhelmed by crowds” would suffice, nor would “I’m so starved for physical affection that being hugged made me burst into tears”, mostly because the latter was simply untrue. Perhaps not wholly untrue, he realized upon further consideration, but mostly untrue.

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked down at the screen in annoyance, his frown only deepening when he saw who it was.

R: Where R U? Did U get hammered?

Lance almost rolled his eyes, but stopped himself. Rolo was probably genuinely worried, but Lance was having difficulty separating that concern from his annoyance at his partner’s actions. Additionally, their codeword for ‘arrested’ wasn’t wholly inaccurate, given who’d found him.

L/B: im fine but got held back will meet u tmrw

He turned off his phone’s display, shoving it back in his pocket and resolutely ignoring the successive buzzes as Rolo and Nyma texted him. He was just getting lost in thought again when a long, sustained buzz alerted him to a phone call instead of a text. _That’s weird_ , he thought, _Those two never call me._ He pulled his phone out in confusion, eyes widening in realization when he didn’t see either Rolo or Nyma’s name on his phone’s screen. He answered quickly, his emotions unable to determine whether this should be making him more calm, or more anxious.

“Hey, Hunk! What’s going on, man?”

“Lance! Oh thank goodness, I was really worried for a while there. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Lance frowned, looking around in confusion. “No? Why, should I be? What’re you talking about?”

“You’re in Sydney, right? You said you were going there to look for some weird ghost flower?” Hunk’s voice was still remarkably tense, and it was a tone that Lance wasn’t used to hearing in his friend. Hunk was nearly impossible to rattle, so for him to be so shaken was disturbing.

“Yeah, National Geographic got word of a whole garden of Ghost Orchids growing near here, so I went to investigate. Dude, what’s going on? You seem really freaked out.” 

“Do you really not know?” Lance barely resisted a groan as his friend’s melodrama. He held it back only because he knew he had no moral high ground. “Blue hit the museum of New South Wales, man! Apparently he did some massive damage to the museum too, and a whole bunch of people in Sydney are rioting because of it. It’s all over the news, they have people live on the streets capturing the riots!”

Lance nearly dropped his phone. Riots? That explained how crowded the streets were, and possibly even why Keith and Shiro had been herded to Lance’s location. He realized that Hunk was still waiting for a response, and had to swallow a few times to get his throat to work again.

“Uh, yeah, I did see some of that. I’m, uh, I’m fine though, just a little freaked out. I didn’t know what had caused it, so thanks for telling me.” He heard a swift inhale on the other line and knew that it was leading into a lecture from Hunk, and he really wasn’t in the mood to deal with that right now. “Hunk, I’m fine. I promise. I ran into Shiro and Keith, and they’re taking care of me.”

An entirely different kind of inhale came from Hunk this time, and Lance sighed in resignation. “Oh, are they now? They’re _taking care_ of you? You know Lance, they’re probably there for work, and they probably shouldn’t be dealing with your flirting right now, for all you know you could get them in serious trouble with their superiors because you know they can’t resist you and-”

“Okay Hunk I’m hanging up now thanks for worrying about me!” Lance’s words came out in a rush to interrupt Hunk before he got too graphic with his warnings. He sighed at the phone as the call screen vanished, replaced by a photo of Hunk with his arm around Lance’s shoulder, both of them smiling broadly. A smile pulled at Lance’s lips as he examined the picture, remembering the day on the beach when they’d taken that. They were young in it, only sixteen years old. Before Lance had become Blue. Before he’d complicated everything to satisfy an addiction to adrenaline.

He was so deep in thought that he nearly walked into a wall. He stopped right in front of it, blinking rapidly as he realized that he’d reached the hotel with noticing. Another sigh, far too common tonight, escaped his lips as he walked inside. His limbs felt heavy, fatigue wearing him down as he walked into the brightly-lit building, blinking against the sudden onslaught of light. 

As soon as he was indoors and felt relatively safe, his weariness made itself known with a vengeance. He was so exhausted that he barely remembered trudging to the elevators, or walking through the thickly carpeted hallways. He didn’t remember opening up the door to Keith and Shiro’s room, or taking a shower. Maybe he didn’t take a shower, because he vaguely remembered falling face-first onto the couch, though he certainly didn’t remember falling asleep.

The next thing he could remember was a hand gripping his shoulder. His eyes still closed, his body snapped into action before his conscious mind could catch up. His arm whipped up and grabbed his attacker’s elbow, twisting it painfully behind their back as he forced them to the ground, shifting his weight onto their back as his knee dug into the small of their back.

“Lance, stop!”

_That was Keith’s voice_ , some part of his mind registered belatedly. _Why is Keith here?_ He looked around as the room swam into focus, blinking rapidly as he recognized the sight of Shiro on the ground beneath him.

He backed off so quickly that he fell backwards, crawling across the floor and bumping into Keith’s legs. “I-I’m sorry Shiro, I didn’t, I wasn’t thinking, I was…” He broke off as Shiro got up, turning to face him without any of the anger that Lance had expected.

“It’s okay, I startled you. I was just worried about you,” he said, crouching in front of Lance and reaching out to him. “Is it okay if I touch you?” When Lance nodded, Shiro pulled him by the shoulder into a tight embrace, sighing against Lance’s neck as the tension left his body. “What happened to you, Lance?” Shiro’s voice so close to Lance’s neck sent shivers down his spine.

“Th-the riots,” Lance said slowly, feeling Shiro’s grip immediately tense around him. He heard shifting behind him as Keith sat on the floor, leaning against Lance’s back. “I...I came here to follow up on, um, on a call about...god, it seems so dumb…”

“It’s not dumb, I want to hear about it,” Shiro said softly, rubbing small circles into Lance’s back. Keith’s head lowered onto his shoulder, and Lance was briefly struck by how comfortable he was in between them. An odd sensation, given how recently they were attempting to arrest him.

“It was a Ghost Orchid,” he said quietly, leaning back into Keith. Shiro’s hold loosened minutely, and he felt Keith’s hand rest gently on his own. “It turned out to be fake, but even the chance was enough for me to make the trip. So, I went wandering around downtown, trying to make something of the trip, you know? And then I heard all of this noise, and I got caught up in this huge crowd, and then-” _I learned that two people are dead because of my actions_ , he thought, unable to speak that aloud. 

He felt Keith’s fingers prodding over his arms and back. “Are you hurt anywhere?” he asked, and Lance could almost feel his eyes as strongly as his fingers. It was almost soothing until he touched Lance’s left shoulder, sending a bolt of pain shooting up his body. He tensed in Shiro’s grip and couldn’t keep a yelp of pain from escaping before Keith withdrew. He didn’t turn to see Keith’s expression, but seeing the worried look on Shiro’s face was bad enough.

“Uh, yeah, maybe,” Lance said, his mouth upturned in a wry smirk. Shiro frowned and looked up at Keith, who had moved to kneel behind Lance. When Lance turned to finally face Keith, he was confused to see a bright blush painting his features. Noting Lance’s confusion, Keith coughed into his hand and gestured vaguely. “I need to examine the injury,” he said simply, as if that explained anything. “So I, um...I need you to take off your jacket. And also your shirt.”

Shiro hastily turned a laugh into a cough, though he still earned a glare from Keith. Lance considered forcing an embarrassed response, but decided that he’d waited for a chance to make innuendos like this for almost a year. Not looking this gift horse in the mouth, he backed away from Shiro’s arms and began removing his jacket. He stopped sharply when another bolt of pain shot through him, eliciting a brief whimper that caused Shiro and Keith to nearly jump on him in their haste to help. 

Keith got there first, holding his jacket delicately as he pulled it down Lance’s arms. “You have to be careful. For all I know it’s broken, so you should move it as little as possible. Here, let me,” he paused, swallowing audibly, “let me help.”

Lance refrained from making dirty jokes as Keith slowly pulled the jacket off, instead choosing to watch the way Shiro’s eyes followed his movements as it came off. Keith’s hands went to the hem of Lance’s shirt next, and despite a brief argument about whether or not Lance was really capable of taking off his own shirt, he soon had it up to tug around Lance’s uninjured arm, then carefully around the injured side.

Lance was pretty sure that Shiro was trying to memorize every inch of his torso, and he bit his tongue on a snarky comment. He was sure that if he said it, Shiro would stop staring, and he found himself really fond of the way Shiro was staring at him. It was an expression of such unabashed _want_ that Lance almost shivered, and not from cold.

“Keep it in your pants, Shiro,” Keith said from behind Lance, his voice clearly amused despite his deadpan tone. Shiro jolted upright and looked aside, blushing at having been caught, and Lance missed the attention almost immediately.

But then he turned and glared at Keith over Lance’s shoulder. “The only reason you have any room to talk is because Lance can’t see you ogling him.”

Lance turned immediately, clutching a hand over his chest in mock offense. “I am _scandalized_ , Keith. How dare you not let me watch you ogle me?” 

Keith sputtered for a second, clearly unsure how to process the fact that Lance wasn’t objecting to being ogled. “Shut up and face forward, I need to figure out what’s wrong with you. Besides the obvious behavioral issues, I mean.” Lance almost protested until Keith forcibly turned him around, and then hands were on his shoulder again. He bit his lip to stifle a cry of pain when Keith prodded the wrong area, hearing a muttered “Sorry,” as Keith touched much more gently. 

“Do you think it’s dislocated?” Shiro offered, reaching to grip Lance’s hand. Lance took it eagerly, squeezing to alleviate the pain he felt as Keith continued examining him. 

“Yeah,” Keith said over Lance’s shoulder. “Not sure how it happened, but I know what’s wrong with it. Lance, I’m gonna reset it, okay? This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but bear with me.”

Whatever snarky remark Lance had on his tongue crashed before takeoff as Keith wrenched Lance’s shoulder. He bit his lip hard enough to draw blood rather than cry out again, squeezing Shiro’s hand until he heard knuckles popping, though he couldn’t tell whether they were his own or Shiro’s. He didn’t realize that he was crying until he felt someone’s hand wiping away the tears that were trailing down his cheek.

Keith muttered apologies against his back, his lips trailing gently against Lance’s skin. Whether or not it was meant as a romantic gesture, though Lance couldn’t imagine it as anything else, the touch caused him to relax completely, slumping forward until the only thing holding him up was Keith’s tight grip around his chest. _When did Keith put his arms around me?_ He thought dreamily, leaning back into his strong arms. It felt good, to be held like this. 

They were talking around him, above him, maybe even to him, but fatigue was rapidly catching up to him. The stress of the day, the exhaustion from the chase, and the crash from his earlier adrenaline high; they were definitely not doing him any favors right now. And Keith was really warm against his back. They had interrupted his sleep earlier, so they couldn’t really complain if he went back to sleep, right? 

The last thing he remembered was feeling that, between the two of them, he was safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be out shortly, I hope! Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr!](http://disappointedcheesecake.tumblr.com/)


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